I just got over, or more accurately am in the latter stages of getting over, some ridiculous version of the flu.  Among my various delightful symptoms was an unusually relentless and high fever.  Fevers are funny things; upon their arrival the body feels achy, sick, weak.  Given time to adjust, however, the body's response to hightened internal temperature is not entirely unpleasant.  The fever becomes like a drug, or at least induces sensations that I assume are similar to those induced by drugs. When the body, or perhaps the mind, stops fighting the fever (or is no longer capable of fighting it), it's more like you're floating and tingling than dying.  The fever induces a type of madness; it beomes your friend.  Perhaps the madness is already there, was always there, but is only brought to surface by feverish madness.  When you are no longer well enogh to care if you exibit sanity or insanity, the madness comes.  It talks to you; you talk back.  It's not entirely bad; It is much like a dream which you are awake for.  When Alice went down the rabbit hole, I'm willing to bet that she had a fever first.