More of the same

Here I am again, thinking and thinking and thinking. It's very tiring, even though my thoughts are all good ones. I must admit though that I sometimes get so deep in thought, that I don't know what I'm thinking about.
Fucking aspergers. I think I use up so much energy in thinking, that it keeps my weight down. There is a swirling sensation; you are at the centre of a vortex of mental hyperactivity. Particular ideas and events go round and round; imagine pieces of driftwood going round and round a whirlpool before disappearing down the middle. So it is with aspergers. I am lucky if, like today, the thoughts are nice ones. Woe betide me if I'm depressed.
I will try and make an appointment with the bath today, as my knee is not so sore as it has been. I want to look smart when I play tonight.
I'm half-remembering a dream from last night. It involved my brother, my nephew, and a station. In my dream the station was Ealing Broadway. The station in my dream was nothing like the real station, and I kept getting lost. I have recurring dreams about buses and trains where I either get lost, miss the connections, end up at the wrong destination, or can't find the stop. I believe I now know what this dream is about. It is about aspergers. Aspergers is all about connections. It is also about communication (in Victorian English, railways communicated with towns). My brain has been trying to tell me about itself since I was a boy, but it has taken me this long to finally understand.