Now nolankyle has what I'm affectionately calling (so I don't scream and curse) 'the illness of '10.' It's what I've been dreading, actually; Nolan is the worst sick person, ever. Most men are, though, as memory serves.
However, this is not a post to bitch about being sick, aching joints and residual crankiness, about losing sleep with fever and chills. (Okay, maybe it is. Last time, though, promise.) This is about the fever induced DREAMS you have when you're in the thick of it. Holy cow, did I have some doozies.
The first and most recurring is that I was student teaching in the fourth grade, and later on, got a class of my own. If you know me at all, you know the sort of nightmarish situation that would be for me. A roomful of kids Ethan's age, all thinking they're smarter than me and spreading their germs around, to boot. Ironic that my subconscious worked that in as I slept.
I also had a dream where I was a roadie for Bon Jovi.
I was a fan when I was 14, and frankly, rock 'Wanted, Dead or Alive' on Rock Band (X-Box 360), but a roadie? I gotta say, it was the best dream of the lot. You'll be happy to know that my subconscious proclaims both Jon, as well as Ritchie Sambora, very cool guys.
On recommendations from several friends, I watched all of the first season of The Vampire Diaries last week, then, unfortunately, went out and got the books. The first three are just teen pulp, pretty harmless, if poorly written, but the next to last one in the series is just DARK. It, more than anything else, prompted these Army of Darkness-vampirey-demonlike dreams about creepy crawly things that go bump in the forest, that were trying to GET me. I dislike being chased, and I dislike it more when it feels like my feet are encased in mud and I can't move away from the bad guy. I woke up screaming a couple of times, but I did have a fever. Needless to say, I haven't wanted to finish that particular book, no matter that there's only 50 pages left, or how much I think Damon Salvatore is the best flawed character since... ever.
But the worst one of all was the dream where we lost our black lab, Katie. Katie is 11 1/2 years old and a little cranky; she's been moving slowly the past few months. I dreamt that it was snowing, and I fed her on the front porch of 214 E. Vilbig. (That's the house I grew up in. Haven't lived there for seventeen years and haven't set foot in it in twelve, but when I dream 'home' dreams, that's where I am.) That particular house doesn't have a front fence, so of course Katie wandered off. It was freezing and windy (the chills, probably) and Nolan and I went looking for her all night long. To make matters worse, we actually found several dogs that looked like her, and had to take them to their owners. It was another nightmare. It's an awful feeling when you think you'll never see your dog again. I mean, we've had her longer than the kids! Anyway, she ended up coming back (as she always does) in the dream.
So, yeah. I look forward to my tolerance to all bugs being built up, and dreaming happy, or at least benign dreams for the next few months.