Sometimes a strange despondency settles and there is no root cause, no apparent reason. Waking up in such a state seems equivalent to waking up on a raft, no memory of setting sail, no recollection of the sea you are on, with a deep and abiding sense that land is far off, the waters are cold and the sun, not altogether warm at onset, is soon apt to set. It is one thing to set sail, to embark on a journey likely to have dangers, fear, sadness. It is another to find oneself there by happenstance, never making the launch, never choosing the path in the first place. Where are you going? Why did you leave? What did you leave behind? Were you cast off or did you flee? What are your running from... or to?
I am apt to blame dreams. Perhaps I set sail last night in my darkest depths, I embarked on great journey, experienced great sadness and joy in the depths of slumber, I solved the worlds problems, fell in love, saw the northern lights aboard a glorious sailboat and never made my way to shore before waking.