After a mysterious stomach upset

While at work
my stomach suddenly started rumbling.
"Huh? Did I drink too much coffee?"
This is a gross story.
It's a story about having an upset stomach. I apologize to those who are eating, or even if you aren't.

I sometimes get an upset stomach from drinking too much coffee, but
this was a bit more severe.
I ended up leaving work early.
As I lay down, the pain just kept getting worse.
Is this what it feels like to have a palm strike directed from your stomach toward your throat?
Ugh...

Infinite palm strikes attacking my stomach like waves.
It's like morning sickness, so painful...
It's definitely not morning sickness, but remembering how painful that was just makes this feel even worse.
Staying in the same position while lying down is also hard on my lower back.
The pain, the nausea, the feeling of being sweaty and gross...
I just don't want to feel anything anymore.
If I sleep, I won't have to feel it. Sleep, just sleep, I kept my eyes closed with all my might.
I wonder if there's a short-course cold sleep.
Like a day service.
I earnestly wished for someone to just let me sleep for a while.

Well, I would wake up feeling nauseous every 20 or 30 minutes, though.

My husband heated up some frozen udon for me.
I ate just five strands, slurping them down.

That night, I was suddenly
woken up by a brightness.

Even though the garden was pitch black, light was passing through the window and entering the room.
A part of the wall was filled with light,
as if a lantern had been placed there.
I wonder who sent this light.
When I opened the shoji screen, there it was, right in front of me—oh, the moon!

The moon said, a bit hesitantly,
"My power only goes this far."

It's far from the power of the unconditionally streaming sunlight.
But I am certainly
receiving your light.
Instead of answering, I bathed in the moonlight.
I don't know any yoga poses, so I was just blankly staring at the moon.
There is no Debussy or Beethoven here.

The sound of the pouring rain.
The sound of tearing open the frozen udon bag.
The sound of the udon broth
running down the side of the pot.
The voice calling out, "It's ready."
The sounds I heard during the day filled my head.

I'm alive, I thought.

The moon I was looking at, thinking it was a full moon,
was called the "Strawberry Moon" the next night.