Static

Static, white noise, dust, and webs.

This fog is strange and time is shuffling drunkenly down a steep hill,  it falls from time to time rolling a bit before stopping to pick itself back up to continue the staggering shuffle onward.

My thoughts are still more fluid than normal. Like a freshly de-fragged computer. The biggest negative seems to be the extreme exhaustion.
  I need rest.
I must recharge.

You cannot hope to resurface so quickly from the depths of your own mind

Recollection

Tell me a story oh Weaver of dreams. Landscaper of nightmares.
architect of illusion.
bring me visions of things that are, things that could be,  and of things that never were.
Terrify me, astound me, let my jaw hang loose.
My eyes are scared to close,  for missing any moment of this would be unthinkable.
As night passes into the light of day so shall these visions. No matter the beauty, These too shall be forgotten.