An interlude in dream.
The dream was mimicking reality.
He lay in bed while a quiet darkness folded the room into its shapelessness. Within it, he and the bed became vague. He could not see himself or the bed, but he understood them as being. He understood other things, too: shadows, wispy as clouds, drifted around him in a slow, cylindrical spin. As they passed, they tried to form faces, a mouth, an eye, a nose, but dissipated into darkness before becoming whole.
When he woke up only the shadows were gone.
A deep sadness came over him. It lulled him back to sleep.
Image source: Harry Clarke via Public Domain Review