Between sleeping and waking

I wrote this during the morning as a kind of 'morning pages' free write hybrid. I imagine as the course progresses I'll do more of these diced and spliced jobs. I need to remind myself that the course means nothing without the writing, the actual writing. I don't really want to do the minimum just to get through the 9 months or so and score an, admittedly useful, 60 points. That's just part of the story. If I'm honest the last couple of courses that was exactly how I approached them, do enough, no more. As far as this one is concerned it's about taken the skill of the writer to another plane, to a marketable level instead of just a hobby or distracting pastime. It's actually more important to do do well than to bluff it if you see what I mean.

Anyway, this morning's hybrid:

It's happened again. Desperately trying to silence the din. It's a fire alarm or something and it's making me feel desperately uncomfortable. I don't know why. It doesn't feel right. It's too shrill, too incessant. Must. Make. It. Stop. Through the fug of confusion and agony, I see it. There it is, the bell, and there's the button that will stop its ringing its dinging - I can't conceptualize the word because its hurting, it is somehow drilling into my head, deafening me, driving me half mad. I'm pushing the button -'no response'. I find levers, I pull on them, they come off in my hand - still the infernal noise. It's seems to be in my head now. I cannot make it stop. Over there, a hammer. I'll break the thing, then it will stop, It'll have to stop when it's broken because it will simply cease to be. I take hold of the hammer and club the bell and all its connections, I smash it into fragments - I'm swinging this hammer like the God of Thunder. Still it rings. It persists. I take hold of electrical wires and forgetting all I know about the dangers of live electrical wires, so mad I now feel, I start to drag them out of the wall, my hands now hold great clumps of coloured wire,fizzing, the stench of smoke filling my nostrils my hands sizzling, and still the noise, the noise the noise, the NOISE! I see myself - as if standing on that bridge holding my ears like that character in the Munch's Scream, and I'm about to throw myself over it before I open my heavy eyes and see, the alarm clock. Ringing. Plaintively telling me to silence it, telling me to please get up.