Restless Night, Rested Day

Sleep did not really exist last night. IT was more of being buoyed in a slow moving lake, the water just inches above my face. Moments would break through and water would lap playfully against my cheeks until I slipped once again to create a small shallow island of almost an unconscious state.

What is the origin of restless nights that still produce a rested countenance in that soon discovered morning?
It, upon reflection, is in fact a buoying by the spirit of God. How can a man converse in his dreams with the creator while being completely and utterly submerged in that slow moving lake? I guess a stronger willed, stronger faithed man than me may be able to compose a symphony of deep sleep while pleasantly discoursing with his Lord. But not me, I have the fortunate plague of slight sleep while my savior speaks. He speaks of things known to me to be unknowable. Yet they are so beautifully eloquent that understanding is an underestimate of the of the experience.
Instead i am carried lightly to shore by a feeling, a knowing that God has spoken and his words carried peace, rest, and unknown to the lips of any man, women, or child. Do not mistake me for saying that love does not exist on the lips of my fellow carriages of the soul, no in fact I am convinced of the love that is capable in any man, women, or child, that is great enough to cart mountains to the sea and lift valleys to the heavens. To take the dust of stars and bless each cup of tea with their sweet delight. And yet this all this potential love is so little compared to the softest syllable that nonchalantly floats from His lips to my ear.

Since this truth exists I awoke blessed with a rest i had not known, the fading whispers of conversation reminding me that the rose colored morning is his final arguments to convince me of a graceful God who cares to share His love and will in my seemingly graceless form.