I surfaced, aware of a pain on the left side of my head. The pain was like a peacock's feather; a zone of deep dark colors, surrounded by lighter iridescent colors, a rounded shape, tapering off somewhere towards my left shoulder. I eased myself on to my back and wondered what I had done to have developed this pain. An inventory of my previous evening's activities, extending into my night's repose, seemed quite innocuous. I ran my hand over the tenderest spots on my head and down my neck to my shoulder. There was a knot like clump of muscles behind my ear that complained angrily as my hand glided over them. So, my hand paused, went back and gently rubbed them, quieting them into a state of grumbling. The soreness subsided with repeated massaging.
When I had finally risen and walked around, the pain in my head and neck gradually lessened.
However, I had not learned a lesson. This way of awakening had to repeat over several days, before I began to suspect my pillow of being the root cause of this pain.
My dear pillow had been a favorite for many years. Just recently, I was reorganizing a closet and found this relic.No doubt it had been pressed into service as a spare pillow in the guest bedroom. Thence it was retired to the closet after the guests left. And fickle me never went to bring it back from exile. Until recently,that is. I must have got myself a new pillow, which was reasonably comfortable, and hence, the old favorite gradually sank into oblivion.
My old pillow was reinstated in my bed , clad in a fresh pillow case. It seemed to sweetly accept my weary head every night, However, nary a moment into the realm of dreams ere I sank- the pillow began its diabolical revenge. It reorganized itself and slunk away to the top, all its fillings grouping above the crown of my head and creating a slope down which my head slid down, until it tenuously occupied just the lowest three inches of the pillow's margins. Lest I wake up during this process, the pillow performed stealthily.
Over the night, the muscles of my neck were wrangled into submission. And there they remained huddled, hiding in fear below the edge of the pillow. By the following morning my muscles would protest, pulling down even my scalp into their picket line. And the headaches would result.
I looked at my pillow. The games up, I said.
The pillow looked back blandly. What did I do? I'm only a pillow.
I picked up the pillow and began to strip off the pillow case. The pillow put up a stiff resistance. It knew its fate and would not submit to it graciously. It clung on to the case, forming obstructive lumps and clumps, allowing the case to fold back on itself. It hung on tenaciously. It tried to burrow back into the case even as I pulled it out. And finally I prevailed.
I took it back to the guest bedroom and put it away in the closet. It sat sullenly on the shelf and made only a feeble attempt to fall off. I put it back on the shelf, giving it a sharp smack. Stay! I commanded it.
As I closed the door of the closet, I picked up a stray feather that had fallen out of the pillow during my struggle. It lay at my feet, a tiny black and white dappled hen's feather. Perhaps its original owner had been just as ornery as its next. I was filled with a sense of pity for both the hen and the pillow as I left the room.
We all journey on in one way or the other, don't we?
When I had finally risen and walked around, the pain in my head and neck gradually lessened.
However, I had not learned a lesson. This way of awakening had to repeat over several days, before I began to suspect my pillow of being the root cause of this pain.
My dear pillow had been a favorite for many years. Just recently, I was reorganizing a closet and found this relic.No doubt it had been pressed into service as a spare pillow in the guest bedroom. Thence it was retired to the closet after the guests left. And fickle me never went to bring it back from exile. Until recently,that is. I must have got myself a new pillow, which was reasonably comfortable, and hence, the old favorite gradually sank into oblivion.
My old pillow was reinstated in my bed , clad in a fresh pillow case. It seemed to sweetly accept my weary head every night, However, nary a moment into the realm of dreams ere I sank- the pillow began its diabolical revenge. It reorganized itself and slunk away to the top, all its fillings grouping above the crown of my head and creating a slope down which my head slid down, until it tenuously occupied just the lowest three inches of the pillow's margins. Lest I wake up during this process, the pillow performed stealthily.
Over the night, the muscles of my neck were wrangled into submission. And there they remained huddled, hiding in fear below the edge of the pillow. By the following morning my muscles would protest, pulling down even my scalp into their picket line. And the headaches would result.
I looked at my pillow. The games up, I said.
The pillow looked back blandly. What did I do? I'm only a pillow.
I picked up the pillow and began to strip off the pillow case. The pillow put up a stiff resistance. It knew its fate and would not submit to it graciously. It clung on to the case, forming obstructive lumps and clumps, allowing the case to fold back on itself. It hung on tenaciously. It tried to burrow back into the case even as I pulled it out. And finally I prevailed.
I took it back to the guest bedroom and put it away in the closet. It sat sullenly on the shelf and made only a feeble attempt to fall off. I put it back on the shelf, giving it a sharp smack. Stay! I commanded it.
As I closed the door of the closet, I picked up a stray feather that had fallen out of the pillow during my struggle. It lay at my feet, a tiny black and white dappled hen's feather. Perhaps its original owner had been just as ornery as its next. I was filled with a sense of pity for both the hen and the pillow as I left the room.
We all journey on in one way or the other, don't we?
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