(no subject)

Today all I want is more sleep. Cold medication makes it possible for me to breathe, to not cough all night, but it wears me out, making the idea of burrowing deeper into the warm covers an almost obsessive fantasy. Instead, I have to go to work, where I will no doubt be given a hard time for missing yesterday.

In just over three weeks, I'll be in Frankfurt: two weeks of much needed time away. When I return, the quest for something better begins in earnest.

sick is an altered state of consciousness

I swear, as much as I hate the physical aspects of illness, it's almost fun the way my brain works when things are just off. In a turbulent skipping back and forth between almost awake and almost asleep yesterday morning, I had an image of how I could take what I want, knowing the only context that mattered was that I agreed to, and for a little while, that was OK. Now I just have hope, but I've seen something, something good, and I want it.

I dreamed about reading poetry last night, and was amazed I could actually read the words in my dream. To be sure, I read it twice more, and every time it was the same. Now I retain the meaning, but it seems noteworthy both for content and for the seeming break with standard dream format.

Today, despite working ten hours without break, I found it easy not to care about the stupidity, and easier to care about what mattered in the moment. Sure, some of it was antihystamine, some tiredness, but there was something else, too, beyond sick, and I liked it.

I'm not sure yet how to get this without being shaken physically, but I'm looking.