3.09.2009

I habe a code (and Kafka dreams)

I haven't had a cold in nearly two years. No flu, no bodyaches, no runny nose, no coughing, no sneezing (well, okay, some sneezing, but usually only when I blow the dust off my copy of Strunk and White, which was like once in the past 2 years... I'll leave it to the readers of my stuff to make their own jokes there). I attribute this to a) daily exercise and b) supplementing zinc with my multivitamins and whatnots.

But for some reason, late last night, it felt like a freight train full of snot and pain hit me full-force in the face (again, a nice place for some add-on jokes... go wild). I took two "glugs" of NyQuil, which is where you let the bottle go "glug!" twice, and laid down about 1 AM.

I woke up about three this afternoon.

Now, none of this is particularly notable in and of itself, except that my having a cold leads to a condition that I haven't experienced in a long, long time - the NyQuil Kafka Dreams. Whenever I have a cold, and I take NyQuil, I end up having some of the most surreal, engaging-yet-disturbing dreams. And what's interesting is that I can never really capture them. They fade from my mind as I try to write them out, which means I can't digest them or try to explore them with any sort of logical thought process... So in the end, I'm left with this huge assortment of emotions that the dreams brought about.

I remember a long chain of events that kept bleeding into one another last night. The only event that actually sticks out for me though is that I was at a wedding reception in Florida on the beach, and it was raining. The participants retreated to holding the reception in a convention hall. Everyone was HORRIBLY drunk... Not just sloshing around and being silly, but drunk to the point where their inner natures were coming out. There was violence... So much violence at this wedding. I was there with a friend (who simply has the distinction of being my friend, as I don't know who it was... Just that there was a form in attentence with me who I recognized as being my friend). The friend suggested we bail out, and I agreed. I needed to stop by the bathroom first, and when I walked in, there was a gang of men fighting. I tried to push past them, but they all stopped fighting one another and surrounded me.

I remember being scared, like I was in junior high when this happened to me (almost weekly). It's the first time I can remember being scared of being hurt by someone in a long, long time. It really shook me.

So I'm awake now, and my face is full of snot, and even though it's been a few hours since I woke up, I'm still experiencing the mild stomach tremors one feels when they've been panicked. Anyone who spent their childhood being beat up knows what I'm talking about - that sick feeling you get that is a mixture of dread and anger, because you're so angry about not being able to do anything to curb your dread. And there's absolutely no reason for me to be feeling this way, except for the fact that my body let a few undesirables in the club and they wrecked havoc with the immune response.

I'm not sure why I wrote all this out, except that I just felt like I needed to. And now that I have, I feel stupid about it, but when has that ever stopped me from hitting the "Publish" button?