No mask

Late, and writing anyway.

The sleep has changed shape rather than improved. Different, not better, and I cannot yet tell whether I mind.

Slept through. Whole night, no waking. It has been so long that I lay there in the morning trying to work out what was different.

Waking at four again. Not anxious, just awake, lying there listening to the boiler.

Vivid dreams, every night, the sort you have to sit up and shake off. Two other people in circle have the same and none of us can find anything written about it.

Until Monday.