He mumbled and stumbled in his sleep. He swallowed rhythmically, but the thirst was always there, always rasping, always painful, but necessary. His teeth grated, his hands clasped tightly, then unwound. He was a dream, he was the dreamed. He spoke in tongues and he whispered of nothing. He grunted and smiled, grunted and smiled. There was energy and complacency, there was danger and static - always static. He was airwaves, hundreds of radio stations raked through his body. No one could see beyond his fluttering eyelids, no one was meant to. It was transcendent, it was dependent, it was blood and semen, it was bone and gristle, it was x factor, it was y factor...hell, it was z factor.