When you don't sleep more than 4 hours a night for weeks, you get King Koil fantasies

I'm currently fantasizing about sleeping. That exquisite sensation of falling into a thick, fluffy quilt, white as a cloud as just as soft, the air-conditioner turned down so cold that burrowing into all that creamy goosedown-puffed fabric seems like the most natural thing to do. I fantasize about shucking off all my clothes and feeling smooth rich cotton against every inch of skin and as I slinky my way into the twin embrace of the bed and the duvet, feeling the press of scented pillows against my face, crisp and clean and fresh with the smell of the afternoon sun and wind and still bearing faint traces of laughter like the scent of jasmine. I fantasize about the scent of vanilla and the taste of sleep on my tongue, as warm and comforting as thick hot cream. I fantasize about a dim cool silence that feels like a stretching cat, a place where alarm clocks and work do not exist. I fantasize about sleeping, without a care, a dream, a sound, for as long as I want. And I think about curling up and finding you there with me, as I drift off into the silent, peaceful lands of slumber.

What are you fantasizing about right now?

One more day til the Honey Trappers do the band...