Lying awake the other night, burning up with a temperature, I started to hallucinate that my body was a machine for summing over its inputs and producing a result. When Sarah brought me breakfast in the morning, I thought I had to put this machine into reverse, feed it the breakfast, and output a tidy pile of its constituent parts at the foot of the bed.

Sometimes being ill is rather like making a cameo appearance in Anti-Oedipus.

I have a tendency to experience bodily states as programming problems; one time I was lying in bed with a full bladder, and in my hypnopompic imagination I was diligently searching through some source code looking for the cause of a memory leak - a buffer that needed flushing. Eventually it dawned on me that the problem did not have a solution in this domain, and that what I really ought to do was get up and pee.