One time in High School I was sitting in a practice room that was along the wall of the band room. There was a piano in there that I loved to mess with. I tapped on the keys, finding things, discovering. I was very relaxed and happy with the world. And a little tired.
I started to yawn and it was a good one. A big, long, restful yawn. It felt so goo...
I woke up on the floor. I had literally yawned myself into unconsciousness and fell off the bench. I had no idea you could do that to yourself. Whoduthunk? I laughed nervously and got up, trying to collect my dignity. I think my girlfriend at the time was in the room with me. It’s hard to remember. Realize, I was in the middle of recklessly depriving my brain of oxygen.
To this day, I still love a good yawn, but I’m a bit apprehensive. Too much of a good thing and all. I guess I have a bit of a yawn phobia. What if I put myself out for good? What if I kill off those few remaining brain cells I rely on to think about types of cheeses? What if I lose my ability to do music? What if I suddenly understand what’s happening on Lost? Crazy stuff might happen, you never know.
I’m just saying: You sleepy people. Be careful out there.
Peace to you.
© LW Publishing 2010