The Night I Died Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The night I died
I was not asleep, this was not a nightmare
my eyes were open as I struggled to wake up
from the deep hole of sleep.
I had sunk into a sinkhole of sleep
that could only end in unconsciousness drifting into death
helpless as an autumnal leaf falling off an oak.
With all my might with every fibre of my aged body
I heaved myself to the surface.
I landed on the wooden floor
tried to get my breathing under control
My wife came running, asked what happened?
Nothing dear, nothing at all.
I was looking for a coin that fell out of my pocket
when undressing.
My head was still fuzzy by unwanted sleep.
I had died, but it was untimely
my heroic leap out of bed had saved me.