Flat Light

A flat light has softened - hidden - all angles. Down at the beach, a voracious sleepiness came over me. The pebbles shifted and warped. I imagined I could see a ghost ship on the slight white-out of the waves. The cold wind, forerunner of winter, pricked me to wakefulness.
I came home and though I would sleep, but I lay on my mattress and was unable to. I wished to be back at the sea again, breathing in that clammy air, watching the unreal sea, that lugubrious horizon. I longed for Brighton to have a lighthouse but we do not.
My sleep was full of dreams of cold corridors and abandoned hospitals last night. They lay about me like the petals of a flower. I thought I would remember the dreams when I woke, but apart from that nonsensical image I remembered nothing.