Once I returned to my sleepy grotto I had some food and passed out.

As I awoke there was a fuzzy feeling in my gut as if I had swallowed styrophome. No matter what I did or ate it sometimes just lessened but came back, so I decided to wait until it subsided on its own.

The coming “days” I got less and less sleep and between vivid nightmares and dense sleep that made me just want to go back to bed once again I tore out of my loft and into the vortex.

I looked for a door that had peaceful slumber written upon it, yet I could not find anything of the like – it was as though my brain was desyncing to the spiral and I was losing power.

Must be some kind of recalibration, yet it took its toll.

In the coming time spent in those hallways I went from door through door, meeting strangers that never had anything to offer besides goods, unhelpful drugs that didn’t get me beyond groggy and the night time skyes I visited had nothing but rainfall to offer.

I tried calming down at a campfire one night, yet the abdominal pain got so bad that I cringed all night.

That morning was a dawn of mist in the field and I felt oversaturated with water to the point where I could see the wrinkles on my hands.

Nothing worked and the little time I had in dreamspace had me not remember a thing. It was such hardfelt and short burst of sleep due to pure exhaustion that it futil to even try.

I went back to the vortex and tried door after door.

Eating a lot I tried conjuring keys to more imaginary doors, yet either the door did not appear after looking for some time or the keys did not work.

In all frustration I leapt to dire and risky actions, found my old sleepy place after a tireless search and conjured an axe.

This damn door wont open? Ill crush it!

With hefty swings I broke into my place and unlocked the door, scratching the inside of my upper arm on the wood in suffering turmoil and frustration.

As I got inside I threw the axe to the side and launched myself onto the couch, pulled the linen over my head and crumpled up like an embryo.

I muttered in an almost cry that I really needed sleep. And after what seemed like a black void of despair I drifted. And drifted. Slowly and without pain into fatigue and a final slumber.