Okay, clearly, I’m going to Montreal when I die. I’ve not been good enough to get into Heaven, per se, but I haven’t been bad enough to warrant anything more than an eternity of a town full of escalators and wide open stairwells.
I might could be okay with that, if they let me keep this bed in the afterlife. It’s enormous, not that that matters, because you don’t really toss and turn in it, nor do you roll around. I’m going to guess by the lack of crust on my face in the morning that I might even be snoring less in such a bed.
Here’s the thing. When you get into this bed, it feels like it takes your body to it and nestles you in. Every part of you is cradled in soft fluffy supportiveness. Then, you pull the duvet up and it’s light and warm and it settles around you like snow, but comfy. And you just have a minute to notice all this because once your head hits the pillow and you stop moving, you are out.
And say you wake up having nightmares about open stairways and being chased? The bed does not allow you that momentary panic where you can’t remember where you are, because you are awake and instantly aware that you are in the most comfortable place you’ve ever been.
So, hurray for the bed. Now I’m off to find some of these chocolate croissants I’ve heard so much about.