Morning of the Living Dead

Wednesday, 4th December 1996

Don't look so resigned to your fate, all veneer of alertness over a blockboard body of sleep, brain humming quietly to itself like an old fridge. What was it you dreamt last night, that should have such power over your daydreams in the waking hours?

Think of a warm bed, a hot drink, a comforting breeze on a summer's night, a fluffy blanket, a cushioned cot, a safe, dark place of peaceful colourlessness and knowing little; the sleep before life, the gentle lull before the storm of light and cold. Whatever gets you through the day, it's okay.