Every morning you start again from the beginning, or rather from where you've been left, high and dry, by your dreams. As if waking consciousness slows the process down to a crawl, as if it is no more than dreaming in very slow motion. Whatever it is that is connected to the sources of emotion, which live in a constant wild roiling, freezes up and what remains are what you call moods and half blame on the body which simply can't move fast enough. Music or movies might help a bit by giving you a weak imitation of dreaming, but if you feel tired or attracted to darkness and stasis that's just the drive to resume dreaming. Is dreaming there on behalf of waking life? That seems unlikely given the ludicrous nature of the latter, much more likely to be the other way around. Perhaps there is no emergence of order out of chaos, but only an illusion of such produced by an entanglement which temporarily hobbles chaos to a near standstill.