Before waking up, I lolled in a semi-conscious state.
I had become a horizontal, one with my bed, flat. I floated on my gumby limbs; felt like a baby gazelle. The horizontals would go on forever...
For hours, centuries even, I'd become a constant, and I watched from my bed all the dust rising, the ins and outs, mergers and takeovers and swallow-ups and skirmishes. The colour changes.
"Silly," I winked at them.
I relished the high, spindly vibrations singing in my ear — constant and then the incubator-like warmth was perfect.
I must have lied like that for an eternity, while the tic toc negotiated between one and one-oh-five in the afternoon.
The matress was sooo soft. I was so soft.
Eventually a whooping cough yanked me off, and all the painful symptoms came back: ears hurt, head hurts, throat hurts, blood in phlegm.
Ah, what do you say to the joys of living? "I'm hungry." I stagger off on my rubber legs.