It’s a slow awakening, floundering in a quagmire of dream sensations.
Opening my eyes only makes it worse. The light sears into my brain, tightening the torturous iron bands wrapped around my head, pressing into tender temples and squeezing every rational thought out of my ears.
I close my eyes again, hoping paper-thin lids are strong enough to hold back the throbbing orbs from exploding.
Curling my body into a clenched fist, trying to block out what sounds I can with leaden arms, all I want is to return to my oblivious sleep.
Migraines, the eighth level of hell.
Thin spiral notebook 
my daughter also suffers from migraines. I hurt for her. This is way too vividly real!
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You described migraines perfect. I haven’t had many, but the ones I have had are terribly bad to the point of throwing up. I can’t imagine having them often than I have.
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I’ve never had one (I’m not bragging). With that description I pray to God I never do!
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I haven’t had many, but they’re definitely hell.
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