In the night I woke, or sort of woke, and thought, fuzzily, that the thing to do would be to imagine myself doing something I never would do. I imagined myself prancing, half dancer, half gymnast, on a roiling cloud, similar to one of the desserts we had at El Cellar de Can Roca some years ago, which arrived on a billowing white surface. It worked and I fell asleep almost instantaneously.
Read this next