The Year Continues (Just Turned Midnight)

The year continues. February replacing January.
Midnight, just turned.
A cup of decaffineated coffee, surprisingly black. I need a harsh taste tonight. I don't know why.
Seemed to take me hours to get to sleep last night, and when I did, I dreamt long, epic, but strangely mundane dreams. Worcester at night. I was living there again. Stealing a street lamp to hide in my room. Remembering I had brothers, of varying ages. I was staying at their house, worried I wouldn't get on with them. Staying in a hotel where And Also The Trees were also. A dumb waiter acting as a kind of transport around the hotel. I did not know how to operate it.
Been oddly nostalgic for spring days in Ickenham today. Don't know why. Suburban streets, knee high walls and neat and tidy gardens. A mundane labyrinth of houses and houses and neatly kept parks, and the odd clump of trees. I remember in my teenage years, canal walks with the family, listening to thrash metal on my walkman. Electric taste of sunburnt air. So many trees in Ickenham. All we have is the sea here.
Nothing to say. I am mute tonight, and am putting off sleep, for I do not wish that insomnia to descend again.
Another day at the call centre tomorrow.
The year continues.