A voice tried to break through my dreams. I put up a good fight, the dream was real, the voice was gone. The sound of retching, thick and quickly followed by plopping sounds, was what awoke me in horror. It began all over again.

In times of emergency, time slows down, and I fly. I flew like the concorde tonight, right to the still ajar door of the bathroom, from where I could hear my mum gasping. My father, who had never learned to fly, reached the door split seconds after I did, worried and at a loss. Steeling himself, he pushed the door open and went inside. Seconds later, "Oh my god!" and a quick exit. I hated him then, his cowardice and inability to face the unpleasant realities of life.

We had all thought she was getting better, the reports said so, the doctors said so, but apparently God had other plans. None of us deserve sleep, the way we abuse it, so now its rendered virtually impossible.

My aunt came in, typically in a state of mild panic. After a quick discussion, it was decided that she should be immediately taken to the hospital for a drip to replace the blood loss. The doctor would be called at six in the morning, not at the ungodly hour of four, and by then, she should be safely admitted.

SHUT UP!!

I looked at my father, now lying exactly parallel to my mum, who was resting her eyes and conserving her strength. Oddly, his pose reminded me of some playboy model on a shoot.

What the hell is wrong with you?!

A concerned, scared playboy model.

Leave me the hell alone, I don't have time for this crap right now.

My mum, insistant on decorum, got up weakly, swaying ever so slightly now and then, to make her way to the bathroom to change into suitable clothes.

What the hell is "suitable" for someone being admitted into a hospital?

Personally regarding it a very bad idea to let her close the door and change alone in this state, I held the door ajar, an eagle eye on her head, eady to spring into action.

My father, behind me, ordered by brother to get up and change out of his shorts to drive his mum to the hospital. Then he asked him for a cold bottle of water to keep by his bedside.

The cat must have sensed some sort of internal war and external tension in the air, because at that very moment, he started rubbing up against my leg. Absently, I bent down to pat him, reassure him, keeping an ever watchful eye on my mum's head. She finally emerged, on her own and quietly issued instructions of what to keep in her bag. Tiredly, she shook her head at her own regular use purse and asked me to fetch the other bag, the travelling bag.

Things packed, I held her arm as she descended the stairs. She felt so light. I prayed I would get to feel her weight against me again, strong and healthy.

Unbidden, the image of my aunt's body, or what they said was the body, came to my mind. It looked suspiciously shrunken to me, as if the spirit had taken some actual mass along with it.

I sighed. My bones were weary, my brain wouldn't shut up and my eyes were burning with unrequited desire for sleep. How could I sleep now, I wondered, as I waved to the car driving off to the hospital.

Ane eventually, as I knew I would, I did..