When Iggy awoke, he did not feel like himself. The aches and pains were vague, but they were everywhere along with a strange new grogginess that he couldn’t clear up. No matter how hard he fixated on not fixating on it, a sting penetrated his temple with enough force to break through ice. Even so, he rested easy, beneath a luxurious feather filled blanket draped over him, pressing him further into a cloud of pillowy heaven where white hilly edges lingered in his peripheral vision. At the foot and head of the bed there were four varnished wooden poles reaching up toward the ceiling, enclosing the mattress in its own little private temple. Soft yellow light glowed from above, illuminating the room with a smooth gentleness similar to the sun at the end of the day... well at least that’s how’d he imagined it.