Having just waked from a late-afternoon nap– dreams laced with madness.
My mind unraveled. Small gods in the guise of speechless children were in the room and I asked Ben who they were. One sat on s shelf in the corner and another dashed under the bed but didn’t go completely out of sight. They were looking at me. I asked Ben who was in the room, multiple times, panicked– did he see them as well? I told him I thought I might be losing my mind but heard no reply. When I looked, it appeared that somehow the magic ruined my ability to hear his replies– he could speak but when he did all I heard was static or the sound of the streets out the window; trickster timing to foil me and send me swirling faster into madness, cut off from anything that might help me make sense.
One of those dreams from which waking requires slogging upward through a sea of thickness and a blinding green darkness, requiring many rests and fresh attempts, so that each time you must relearn that you are still in the dream, though it feels more and more real and the surroundings appear to be your own familiar life.
Very tiring as far as sleeping goes.