I'm up at 5:00 a.m. and lay awake struggling for some shut eye. Around 8:30 a.m., I begin to fall asleep, and in-between the grooves of wakefulness and sleep lies absence. I felt my consciousness being assaulted as a falling took place--not of my body, but of my consciousness or spirit, if you will. I experienced a silent, yet extreme and unshakeable weight on my head. I began to sink, moving in a downward spiral as anxiety and perplexity fermented in me. The notion of uncertainty flowed through me aggressively as I was uncertain whether I was falling asleep or moving into utter absence. A formless pressing pressure invaded my night. I wondered if this is what it means to die in one's sleep. There was a heavy force pressing upon me, moving me into nothingness: a sudden deadness and lack of signification. A rusting of the will took place. Pure absence and thingness were alternating, partaking in a strange dance. This opposition was magnified by the realization of my own alterity from myself, where the I became a dislocated material. Is absence a phantom-strangulation? Is it a tightening of the tongue rendering one wordless? Is it an intimacy of interiority? Is it the result of unearthing layers upon layers of self? is it a movement toward death?