I wake up from a vivid dream, look around the room, put my head back on the sweaty pillow and fall straight back to sleep.
. . .
I rouse myself momentarily, feel the wet sheets beneath me, move over to a dry part of the bed and with flashes of dream still in my mind, I fall back to sleep.
. . .
My eyes open and light is coming through my windows. My duvet is stuck to me and my head is throbbing. I'm thirsty but don't want to move so I ignore it and leave my water bottle sat on the floor next to my phone whose alarm was not set to 5:40 to get me up for morning training.
I lay there, swallowing mucus that drips into my throat until I cant stand it any longer and willing my strength I roll over, reach down and grab the toilet roll I strategically placed there last night, next to the water bottle and the phone whose alarm was not set to 5:40 to get me up for morning training.
I blow my nose, tearing off square after square of paper and distributing used debris all over my floor like a snotty shag pile rug. I drink my water not caring that I'm spilling it down myself and into the bed. I drop the empty bottle on the floor, adding it to the mess and lay back down into my cold, wet sheets. I turn my duvet over to its dry side and try to ignore how uncomfortable I feel laying here in my own sweat and illness.
I fall in and out of sleep at irregular intervals, only awake for long enough to turn over, or move a pillow, before I go back under. Sometimes I rejoin the dream I was just having, sometimes I start a new one. Sometimes I'm awake, but I'm still inside the dream. I try to hold onto these moments for as long as possible before reality draws me back into my sore, throbbing, coughing state of mind and body.
Some time later, it's brighter now and birds are singing, I awake fully and start thinking that I should make moves towards getting up. I go over the dreams I had. I try to remember the details and am always surprised by how much I retain. How many of the different strands, scenarios and characters I can remember. I think that I should start keeping a record of them, but then I remember that I've been saying that since my spate of crazy dreams started about a month ago and I've still to write a single one of them down.
I sit up on the side of my bed. Being careful not to move too fast and gaze at the empty water bottle, wishing I'd brought two into my bedroom the night before. I twist my neck this way and that, listening to the pops and cracks, and then I'm up. I take a wobbly step over the discarded tissue and go into the kitchen to get more water.
Before breakfast I blow my nose and once I'm done I keep on blowing. I want to be able to enjoy my cereal. I don't want to be gagging on the milk because I cant breath and I don't want it to be completely tasteless. I pour myself a large bowl of cornflakes and then add two spoonfuls of chocolate powder to make them more of a treat than a chore.
While I eat my breakfast I flick to the good parts of the DVD I was watching last night. By the sofa is another snotty shag pile that I spent the majority of the evening manufacturing.
I think about going out but it's too hot for me in this state. I'm already sweating and the thought of having to don one of my Thai too-small-for-westerners T shirts and brave the heat just isn't cutting it.
I go to the bathroom and flick the light switch. Nothing happens so I flick it a couple more times. I feel stupid when I suddenly remember that it blew out on me the day before. Now I don't know if the switch is on or off and I'm not looking forward to changing the bulb.
I sit back on my sofa, blow my nose, drink water and wonder what the hell I'm going to do with myself all day.
I start up my laptop. There on the desktop is a folder marked Dreams. Hovering my cursor over it I get the message Folder Is Empty. My head is pounding. I reduce my screens brightness and load the novel I was reading last night.
Hours pass. I fill the air with germ from my repeated coughing, and on the floor I start to produce a brand new shag pile rug.