My Bed Called For Me Essay
I really didn’t like sleeping much. It wasn’t the rest. It was the dreams. Every night my failure to keep Chris alive replayed over and over in my dreams. It made me dread getting any kind of rest.
But I was so tired, I just couldn’t stand it. I was almost aching with the need for slumber.
Just as I started to slip into unconsciousness, a loud, urgent knocking sounded from the door. At first I ignored it, but it sounded several more times with no sign of subsiding. In a huff I threw back the covers and hastily dressed. The pounding on the door continued until I opened it. Standing on my stoop was corporal Donner.
“I’m sorry Scott,” he stammered. “Stryker wants to see you.”
“I just left there,” I reminded him wearily.
“I know,” he agreed. “The captain said he has a job for you.”
Tom looked down at his feet. I could see that he didn’t want to disturb me. “All right,” I said. “Let’s see what the old man wants.”
The snow was falling heavily as we traipsed between the buildings. Big, wet snowflakes accumulating on our shoulders and hats as we crossed the short route to the headquarters. Here in Alaska, leaving your snug, warm cabin and going outside was always a shock,…