Slightly Ill

All yesterday, incapacitated by a hangover. Lying on Em's bed, exhausted. Came home last night and fell asleep on the sofa watching 'Cold Comfort Farm', by this time thinking it may not be a hangover - thinking I may have picked up Andy's odd 'exhaustion sickness'. A feverish night follows with feverish thoughts which make no sense now - of how a comic series called 'Fables' makes no sense because all the characters look the same and there are too many words. My thoughts keep returning to this. At some point I have a dream about a crawling hand. I don't know where the hand has come from. It hides in a fish tank and whispers to me that it will come in the night for me. I realise I have to kill the hand and go off to look for a knife. The hand knows what I am doing and crawls away into the darkness of the skirting board. I cannot find a knife to kill the hand. They are all too flimsy or have disappeared. Nearly 12:30pm now. Still have a headache. Not going to do an ything today but lie on my bed and listen to gloomy metal albums I only listen to when I am only slightly ill.