I don't sleep, and I don't dream.
It's hard to describe what this feels like. Try to imagine a world dominated by thought; the conscious world spinning out of control, unfettered and relentless. Usually, a good REM sleep allows your brain to go on autopilot, at which point it can work through all this nonsense and prepare you for another go at the outer world.
Unfortunately, my mind is completely uninterrupted. I'm never tired, but I'm restless. Thinking, thinking. Unable to find any relief in the recesses of the unconscious. This 406-year insomnia began the the day I died. I'm no detective, but I think there's a connection.
The good news is that I'm a great employee. Work, work, work. Night and Day. Day and Night. I suppose this counts as my "coffee break."
The last dream I remember was of a shark. Land shark to be specific. Cruising just beneath the surface as I walked beside it. It called to me. Enticed me with pleasant conversation. But I knew it's nature. A devouring beast living inside mother earth.
My dime store psychology points to unresolved mommy issues. Or maybe it was a premonition. Warning me of the beast who now rides with me every night.
I'm not even sure I'm talking about Sara.