Falling asleep on the couch while reading a book

It is dark. Not very dark, though. It is the kind of dark that greets you just before the sun sets and the lights wish to be turned on, when you sit to the side of a window in a dark corner and not right in front of it so that the dark seems darker and the light seems brighter. The dark corner is a brown couch and you are sitting on it, contorted to fit in as small a volume as possible, with a book in your hands. 

The darkness is not alone. It is interrupted by clouds of thought that seem to come out of this brown corner. The book gets more incomprehensible as the sun sets and your eyes get wearier due to lack of light. Single sentences are easy to parse, and each sentence seems to lead logically to the next, but when you look back you do not remember what you just read, or who Ila is or who Tridib is and who Ila was listening to or where the nonlinear storyline just took you. All you recall is the feeling of being in the book, of sitting beside a lake in Calcutta, of the atmosphere of a pub in London, of an old grandmother dealing with a non-crocodile (yes, that is a well-defined feeling).

The sleepier you get the more your feelings get defined by situations in the book, with no thread tying them together in a linear and obvious way. You are still highly aware of feeling those unconventional feelings but you feel them for a second and then they are forgotten, followed by another stronger feeling that is doomed to also be lost from memory. The sleepier you get the more the lights on the ceiling ask you to turn them on, but that would mean escaping the dreamy and non-logical reality that your book has created for you. That would mean choosing to comprehend the book in a cold, systematic way instead of walking through its pages and experiencing the atmosphere it creates but not quite forming a coherent picture of what it is about. 

As the sun dips below the horizon, it becomes hard to distinguish what is part of the book that you are reading and what is in your thoughts, lying on a tangent that your mind decided to take, or part of some dream that was just born in your head. As the sun dips below the horizon, the clouds of thought make your surroundings dimmer and dimmer and dimmer and dimmer and dimmer...