A different shape

Late, and writing anyway.

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

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

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.

Enough for now.