Sleeping Under Crazy: Or Woman Reads To No Avail

Reading a Victorian novel.

Each time I pick it up it comports itself like Nytol on body and brain and I am soon in very deep sleep. In my dreams, under the tomes effect, I lay on my bed, asleep, struggling to wake.

At times I make it as far as lifting my drugged head and torso from the bed as my heavy arms struggle up and my graceless hands grab at a blanket that acts as securing web on my head. And I sink back down. And once down the dream begins again.

I must wake.

I must wake!

But body and brain won't listen!

I must wake! I must wake!

Hours later I wake from this imposed nap and find the day has slipped away along with the Victorian novel from my hands. I shan't pick it up again.

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