Dylan rummaged franticly through his chair till he found the remote. The bowl of popcorn in front of him glistened with the reflection of the dim glare of the TV in the otherwise dark room. It had been a relatively useless day really, he had a whole list of things that should have been done but he managed to drag through the day without raising a limb in the effort to do anything remotely productive. His days were becoming wasted periodically really. A slow blues dirge began to rupture from the speakers of the television and his attention began to drift away.
Why in Gods name am I still alive?
He really was wasting his days.
What happened to the dream?
He was going to bed to early and getting up to late.
It was supposed to end.
Nothing productive was really coming out of him lately -- it was getting embarrassing.
All things stop and start – don't they?
He really had more work to do.
Isn't that just part of being human?
But he was just going through the days because he could.
I was ready – I was done with it all – the book had been closed.
There was no direction lately and he wasn't sure that the long road ahead was imaginable.
Here I am though, trying to write chapters to a finished book.
He knew the hopelessness of waiting for life to happen.
When you've been dead for so long – it's hard for being alive to mean anything.
But the world seemed too cynical for hope anyway.
That's just the problem though isn't it?
He probably shouldn't be eating so much -- that was it -- with his low amount of activity the popcorn was really over the line. He needed to do something.
I'm just watching a dream aren't I?
But there wasn't really much else to do. Dreaming was really the only productive thing anymore. But it didn't matter really; Dylan knew better that to waste his thoughts on this philosophical obsession – and besides…
Nothing means anything.
Man, this was going to be a great episode.