The nighttime is a mystery.

The other night, I went to bed with a pair of socks on. In the morning, the socks were off and someone had thrown them across the room.

The other night, I went to bed with my sweater on. In the morning, I was still wearing my sweater but someone had inscribed the Chinese character for “danger” on my left tricep.

The other night, I went to bed with my retainer in my mouth. In the morning, I woke up with two retainers in my mouth. Score!

The other night, I went to bed with a full glass of water on my nightstand. In the morning, the glass was half empty and suddenly, I just felt like nothing I did that day would make any difference.

The other night, I went to bed next to my husband, with our dog Sally sleeping at the foot of the bed. In the morning, I woke up to find my dog Sally wearing my clothes, kissing my husband, and taking over the life that I had built for myself.

The other night, I went to bed with a sore thumb. In the morning, I woke up feeling completely better. Tylenol, nothing acts faster than Tylenol. Sold everywhere drugs are sold.

The other night, I went to bed with a lonely feeling inside. In the morning, I woke up and my toe nails had been painted a nice red color and slipped into some nice heels like I had just gone out on a really great date. He never called me back.

The other night, I went to bed with a full head of hair. In the morning, I woke up with a full head of broccoli.

The other night, I went to bed reading a book about Thomas Jefferson drafting the constitution. In the morning, I had made edits on his drafts and sent them back to him via pigeon.

The other night, I went to bed with a mustache. In the morning, I woke up with a moustache.

The other night, I went to bed with two A-cup breasts. In the morning, I woke up with two D-cup chicken breasts.

The other night, I went to bed as a twenty-four year old. In the morning, I woke up still twenty-four years old, but bald and in the middle of a really tough divorce. The kind that drags on for months and drains you financially and emotionally.

The other night, I went to bed as my mother’s daughter. In the morning, I woke up as my mother’s daughter, which was still me. I woke up as me.

The nighttime is a mystery. ◊

JENNIFER KIM is a writer living in L.A. She's the youngest of three siblings. Her website is here.