Stream of consciousness

I am heady with excess sleep. Long hours of resignation to active life. My neurons are weaving stories. I see myself. Standing on the bus stop at VT, waiting for a bus. The bus comes. I start running towards it. It goes away leaving me in a cloud of black soot. I am waiting for the next one. The bus never comes. And suddenly, I am at home. Sitting in my room, staring at the magenta wall. Floating in the same way I am now. Directionless, nauseous, with a lump in my throat and a knot in my stomach. This is a nightmare now. The dream should be a relief when my days are nightmares. Where is the cyclicity of light and dark? I wake up. This is worse. I hurriedly think of a food I like, smile a little, and lo, I see the weighing scale. I am sweating now. This is a bad night. I push my head back to the pillow. I close my eyes and see the dark. It is my constant companion. My enemy. It filters via my pores into the recesses of brain. It extinguishes the tiny flicker of motivation. It is all-pervading. I am it. Sleep. Dream. I wake up. One more day of my continual night.