to the point of feline frustration

sleep is normally a place i do not wish to visit too often; generally, sleep is not a source of rest for me, but is, instead, a horrifying look into a future i do not wish to see or a ghastly look at my past, through cold loveless lenses, obscured to relive only the painful moments of my life; artfully avoiding the beautiful, love and laughter filled days, countless if ever numbered. 

sleep is normally something i must do rather than something i choose to do. alas, with mono, the last 4 weeks have been very different. most days, i've slept at least 15 if not 18 hours. no matter the weather, my condition, my company or the state in which i lay, sleep has overcome me in ways and places i didn't know were possible. 

for those of you who've suffered through the long and arduous plight of mono, your empathy is welcomed, although in many ways, undeserved. from the stories i have heard, my bout with mono has been an easy one: exhaustion, lack of appetite, poorly timed fevers and a weakness beyond weaknesses. aside from the Cat Scratch Fever, i fell to no other illnesses common to mono-sufferers, and, as one pointed out, its probably due to my inability to dehydrate: for i am an avid if not addicted water consumer. keeping my body well hydrated and consistently flushed probably helped me ward off other common co-conspirators, such as the flu, canker sores, and congestion.  all that being said, the sleep and constant exhaustion kept me down and out but only a few times busted. 

i can't help but wonder about the state of my dreams when i'm in a state of despair. often times, when my heart aches for my friends and loved ones, i dream of them; when my body aches from a day of (actual) labor, i dream of africa, the village, the huts, the family, the hills, the walks, the eyes. 

naps these days come often and with purpose. with little warning, i'm out. and with even less, i'm up, usually around 3 hours later. its amazing - my days have flown by, in fits and feverish flurries, with sad tears flooding my face and happy smiles overwhelming my body, the last month has gone and with it, seemingly, so have some of my night-terrors. i do hope that they stay gone, at least until i'm well again. 

when i am sick, however, i seem to dream of nothing. 

i just sleep. quiet. still (unless feverish). and very hard. 

it doesn't matter that my odd, older and eery upstairs neighbor, julien, the small and pudgy indiscernible odorous asian man in the apartment directly above mine, plays his movies (one of two genres: copper flicks and carey grant pictures) loudly and with his own voice-overs soaking through his floors. it doesn't matter that my kitten, Nugent, is pawing my nose or purring my belly or biting my toes, i'll flinch and reposition, but i almost never wake up... except to go to the restroom (from my lack of dehydration comes a nightly trip to the restroom). other than that one, now robotic movement to the room across the hall and back, i sleep long hard hours, to the point of frustration to Nuge.