Ghost Writer

Have you ever written so much that when you eventually go outside to buy some food to the near shop, it actually feels like you are still in a dreaming stance?
Well that how it felt to me right about an hour ago. People have walked past me to walk their dogs or wheel their bins in or out in the crisp air, but it just felt to me as if they were not there. 
I felt like my feet were connecting with the pavement but they were not really connecting.
I felt as if the kids playing in the street were just reminiscents of my waking dreams, as if the check out guy was just smiling at someone else. His smile passed right through me. Like a ghost.
Nothing felt real except maybe the waxing crescent of the moon profiling in the night and the sharp pointy stars glittering away.
Everything else was just passing me by. It really felt odd and at the same time great. For once, I felt I was on a different plane (and I don't even smoke) as if time has escaped me which changes so much for all the times I felt not productive enough, not fast enough with the writing.
For once, I felt time had stopped and time was no longer slipping away from me. I wish the feeling could have last a little while longer.