She lies awake, staring at the ceiling. Her motionless figure can be easily mistaken for a corpse. A sudden spasm jolts her body into the nearby cabinet and clothes cascade into her tightly clenched hands. She does not move, but her mind is traveling light years. Delivering a forceful blow to her face, her fists relax but can’t quite open. She tries to slap her hands flat but to no avail; her muscles recoil to tense hooks on tenterhooks. She keels over, face flat on the floor and captures a pill with her darting tongue. She gets up to write.