Anybody home?

I realized something tonight. I have always assumed that if someone is staring blankly off into space, there is no one home, that they are off in some world of their own and unaware of what is going on around them. I have learned, that at least in some cases, that is far from the truth.
Over the last few weeks, I have had times where I cannot speak. It's hard to describe because I do not understand it myself, but I will do my best to explain so that you can perhaps catch a glimpse of what it's like. Today, I was tired. I woke up, had breakfast, took a shower, then laid back down "for a minute". I fell asleep, dreamed pretty steadily, although I do not remember what I dreamed, woke up in a panic when Jason came into the bedroom for something and quickly went back to sleep, only to dream some more. Jason came back into the bedroom a little while later, around 1pm, and again I woke up. This time, I decided I would get up. I got up and struggled to make myself move. I vacuumed the living room (random thing to do fresh from a nap, I know, but I wanted to feel useful), then I decided to go for a walk to try to jump start some endorphins. I thought maybe if I got out in the sun and started walking, my energy would kick back in. Jason was talking to me as I was vacuuming and getting ready for my walk, and I heard every word he said, but it took so much energy to respond that my answers were short and monotone. Mentally, I was fully aware, but it took so much out of me to even speak.
I set out for my walk, but unfortunately, it did not have the effect I wanted. The leaves were so pretty, and I absorbed their beauty and watched as they fell like a downpour from the trees, but as I got about six blocks from the house, I noticed I was walking like a zombie. I wondered what the neighbors would think if they saw me shuffling my feet, with my arms limp at my side, but I kept walking. Then I got overwhelmingly tired. I just wanted to sit down on the edge of the sidewalk and, well, just sit there, but I knew I needed to get home, so I forced myself to keep walking.
When I got home, Jason tried to talk to me and once again, I completely understood what he was saying and wanted to answer, but I couldn't. I answered mentally, with full on sentences as I would if I could speak, but I did not have the energy, or the ability to get the words out of my mouth. Everything else in my body was working fine. I could walk. I could use my arms and hands. Nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. I could respond to Jason's cues to squeeze his hand, but I just couldn't get myself to speak. After a couple minutes, however, for whatever reason, my verbal ability came back and I was able to carry on a normal conversation and have been able to speak for the rest of the day.
As I was sitting in church tonight, it dawned on me that when I have met people who appear catatonic, or who answer with mono-syllables, or have a distant look in their eyes, I get really uncomfortable and avoid them, assuming that they aren't able to relate to their environment, but I have decided no more! No matter how people appear on the outside, I am going to assume that they are fully cognizant. I know that not all people have the same experience I do, and that not all people who appear distant are actually fully lucid, but some are, and I don't want to take the chance of hurting someone, or mistreating someone, who is already suffering as a prisoner in a body on the fritz. A little love and compassion can go a very long way.