Falling asleep in the sun

There is nothing better than falling asleep with Virginia Woolf on a warm Sunday afternoon, with the three legged cat wagging its tail on the grass, and the ants busy climbing up and down the small willow. Life continued quietly in my dreams. With the resonant hum of the traffic in the background, all it needed was for someone to tell me that I was, indeed, a happy man and all the balance in my life would be restored. But of course no one would tell me this; it was not their business to interfere with my sleep. Instead I lay there, grappling with the confused intensity of half formed dreams, haunted by a terrifying phrase that came, again and again, which I could not understand and which left me fevered as the sun went down: You know nothing, John Snow! Until this truth was revealed I would always be unfulfilled.