In a dream I was distorted. I had been peering over some unspeakably majestic landscape. The German Alps, I think, or Nebraska. But then the sun was in my eyes. I squinted and pressed my face against an amorphous rock slate, but the soft green slope, which had previously existed as a sort of subconscious expression of potential, or something, if you buy all that, became now a convex mirror focusing the sun into my eyes. And I’m worried about my eyesight, at least when the sun is in my eyes. But in a dream I have tremendous strength of will, but I’m none too bright, in a dream, and soon sunglasses materialized in front of my eyes. So I had this, at least, but I wasn’t tipped off that it was only a dream, by the sunglasses, and the amorphous rock, and the sun that would remain in my eyes and block, or rather, illuminate, rolling green expressions of potential, and I only thought, “it’s reflected off this amorphous rock and I’m wearing sunglasses, and my eyes are closed, so this shouldn’t be causing too much retinal wear.” But I wasn’t entirely convinced. I’m predisposed to retinal disintegration, and, when the sun’s out, this is often at the front of my mind. I like fall evenings and pre-dawns. But fall evenings are fleeting, and I can’t sleep after a calm pre-dawn. I think there’s a circadian demarcation at around five am, when the deep blue pre-dawn seeps through your skin and red slits of early sun dribble down your eyes, because these colors are an adrenaline rush and rolling green is a subconscious expression of potential and I’d cut slits in my life and slide toward the Nebraskan countryside if only the sun weren’t in my eyes. But if you buy all that you’re a fool because when I woke up the sun was still in my eyes, its foot in the thin slit of a windowsill. It was one pm and the night before I had watched a movie that took place in the German alps and now I can’t be sure whether I’m profoundly lazy or only anxious.