Sick. Daze. Haze. Fog. Sleep. I wake up. It's day time. I'm dimly aware I'm supposed to be feeding myself three meals a day. And drinking plenty of fluids. What shall I do about that? I remember I have some packets of miso soup mix. That would be easy to make and would feel good on my sore throat. That's what I'll do.
I fall back asleep. I dream about miso soup.
Oh, I was supposed to make it, not dream about it. Oh well, dreaming is close enough. Easier then getting up.
I wake up again. I remember there's a world out there. I'm supposed to be doing something. I'm supposed to be interesting and intelligent. I'm supposed to earn a living. I'm supposed to earn friends.
I'm a blob. No use to humanity. Helpless. I'll lose my job when they find out how useless I am. Which means no rent no groceries. No music. No dance.
My skin aches, sore with fever.
I fall back asleep.