This is the first page of the missing manual, designed to be understood only by those who have no need of it.
Waking up isn’t for everyone.
Dreaming is an anodyne to our nearly inescapable grief.
But if you must awaken, make your bed inside a kettle drum and pray for rain.
When it starts to thunder, climb onto the roof and cling to the lightning rod.
Waking up isn’t for those who are already dead.
You have to start from a position of strength: go fetal.
Every zipper yearns for closure, but it can’t be rushed.
The mountain isn’t going anywhere—stop trying so hard!
Early birds are known only from the fossil record, having met their end in the jaws of nocturnal beasts.
Leave a window open for cat burglars and cats, either of whom might teach you how to travel light.
Waking up isn’t for sleepers.
Eternity can be bribed, though, if you’re subtle about it.