I really didn’t want to wake up that morning. Hangover doesn’t even begin to describe it. Hangover is a sanitised word. A scrubbed up word. It doesn’t begin to express the pounding drumbeat of your pulse crashing through your head. The slivers of glass rammed into your eyes by each beam of light. The fact your mouth is drier than the sahara and tastes like… sorry. I’d better stop there, the taste is best left alone.
So basically I felt like death whilst still being around to experience it. Why on earth would I want to get up and not go straight back to sleep? Probably the number one reason that gets anyone in that state out of bed. My bladder. It was sending signals that even my hazed brain couldn’t ignore. Get up right now or you’re going to regret it.
So I got up. Well, I rolled to the edge of the bed. Let my legs roll off and ended up half kneeling, half laying on the bed. Against all logic that suddenly seemed to be the most comfortable position ever devised. A perfect position to fall asleep. Once again the urgent signals from my bladder won through though and I clambered to my feet.
That’s when it hit me. A flashback of the dream I’d had the night before. Well, nightmare not dream. Not a slight drifting into your mind memory but a full on, shiver down the spine, instant flashback. Made my heart thump, my breathing speed up and damn near caused a disaster. I half ran, half shambled into the bathroom just in time.