Dream Scape

I have been battling with illness the past three days. Originally I thought it was from a night of overenthusiastic dancing but now on day three I'm realizing, no, germs are making their standard rounds through my blood stream. One of the results is a sore throat. The sore throat variety where it feels like someone (probably me) wrapped a golf ball in sand paper and then half swallowed it. Yawning is the worse. Who knew.

But the golf ball of doom is particularly screwing with my sleep. If you read this blog you know I have a super overactive dream life. If I get over or under a certain amount of sleep, I get crazy James Bond dreams. With the golf ball of doom securely lodged, my sleep has been broken up into teeny tiny pieces where during the coarse of the night I'll wake up maybe a 100 times.

The body has adapted.


For the past three nights I have been part of some small task that is either boring or terrifying or whatever but the point is that I am doing it over and over and over within the dream. And it's set up so that it makes sense to be doing it over and over. It's like my job is in the post office and each person who comes in has a new problem that I have to solve. But none of them involve eating cookies or petting kittens. And every time I wake up to swallow around this golf ball I come out and then back in. Another person steps to the counter.

Last night's scenario was complicated and fascinating but too dreamy to go into here. The point of all of this is that I find it amazing how adaptable the body is. Instead of just bringing me in and out of a single dream arc where I'm further along a single path, my brain has created a device for the situation. And the result is a night of tedious work that never never never ends.

Aaaand in other news: today I have almost no voice. Hurrah!