The sleepiness.

 I’m sitting, in my room, tens of  thousands of pages to correct and to write. If I were to have a break, what would be doing? Writing, again. But dreaming, would be nice.

In dream, any will is incapacitated, and worries, over-thinking, become impossible there.  The  sleepiness. I’m sitting, in my room, possessed by a good spirit that encourages me to correct  thousands of pages, and in a break I write about dreaming, and the result is independent of dream, there must be a remembrance of previous thinking and of survival thoughts of mine. What am I saying? The  sleepiness. The awareness of being sleepy.