Waves of dread keep coming over me as I lie in bed, waking up, finding the room in semi-darkness, wanting to be asleep, my heart tips over, I try to go back to sleep. I know it’s late, I want to rest today, I feel guilty for lying in and going back to sleep. My throat is dry and prickly. I don’t know what to do with myself today. It’s nearly 12 by the time I give in and haul myself out of bed, deposit myself in front of my laptop. ‘Don’t let your wife know about this game!’, a ridiculous banner ad shrieks. I’m dehydrated. Strange dreams linger like wraiths. I hear the rats protesting to each other, tugging cheerfully on their water bottles, digging around the cage for treats. Birds sing faintly from behind a roller blind; I’m waiting for my heart to settle down, having woken in a mild panic each time I open my eyes. I’d like to wake in a good mood, please - not thirsty, panicky and full of dread. Birds trill quietly. I should probably exercise when I wake up; go for a brisk walk, do some star jumps, yoga. I stretch my neck a little instead and write whatever comes into my head, which isn’t much. Whining - what you see here.
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