The illness spreads

The illness spreads like a malignant disease. It creeps and seeps into every nook and cranny of my being. It is a permeating cough that comes at night after the midnight bell has chimed. I can't sleep. I twist and turn, hugging a pillow to my chest, hoping to protect my fragile lungs from the cold wind billowing from the fan. I keep coughing, that whooping cough that yields no phlegm. Slowly I descend into a frenzied sleep. Like my body, my mind is plagued with disease; another disease that hijacks my brain and directs my thoughts towards insanity. In a semi-dazed state, I am one with the dark elves. Their evil is my evil. I cull the weak, betray my "friends", and murder my siblings. I am rescued by the break of day. When I wake, my mind wants to continue the dream. It is fun, but I get up anyway, after wasting more time just lying in bed. My cough is better now, but I know when I go to sleep, the cycle continues.