He's dreaming about a man in a blue bodysuit climbing out of an enormous mechanical womb, and then he's not, he's up and out of bed and halfway across the room turning off his alarm. Then what? He just stands up dumb, foggy, thinking nothing, feeling warm. He knows without knowing that the urge to return to sleep is fleeting and counter-productive, but he resets his alarm for an hour or a half-an-hour from then and saunters back to bed hoping his dream about the blue man will continue. His mattress and blanket and pillow and friendly and familiar, but the dream and the sleep are this time workmanlike and less romantic.
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