Sick and Dreaming

Headache, crawling skin, barfy...I hate sick.

But sick is what happens when you're teaching little guys. They use your pencils, they cough and sneeze, they are trying out all the new viruses to build up their immunities.





Strong, powerful intracellular macrophages and monocytes gobbling up bad viruses building antibodies.







I imagine I'll be virus proof by the time I'm 80.





Dreaming when sick is an adventure.

I'm sick and my dreams are all mixed up with that headach~y head, a stressed out knot in the stomach with shivery skin like fear.

Most of my dreams are house dreams.

Often, in the recurring bad dreams, I'm in my childhood house at the beach. Scary, but mixed with the wonder of the ocean out the front window.



It used to be more frightening, but somehow I've conquered some of that. Now my dad is a wizened old salt, unable to wreak too much havoc. I ignore him, aware of his feebleness.




Who can you bother when you're tottering around, voice a scratchy whisper?

Some are still rushing around like courtiers, jesters. "Yes dad, yes dad! We ARE walking on eggshells! We're struggling to understand your logic, your wants, your needs!"




He can't get enough attention or compliance.

But after years of recurring nightmares inside the beach house, I'm outside nowadays. Early morning in the sand dunes lit by cool sun. Outside, safe. Plenty of beach goers are searching for shells and fossils and driftwood. Running on the dove colored wet sand along a sparkling tri~colored sea, laced with incoming tumbling bubbles.

The sun is out early, gray mist and substantial cloud cover pushed back by a warmer breeze. Fishing boats, whales, pelicans, shearwaters all slipping in and out of the sets of waves. One small one, a larger one, larger, until the 7th is crashing onto the shore, shaking the terra firma, soft damp moving over me, sprinkling down. Walkers scoot out of the way or jump with cold feet. Kids are digging for treasure down through the sifted dry sand to the damp darker spots, fine roots of dune grass holding the hole firm.




They are purposeful. Oblivious of life. Free from the water's danger. Happy.

Safe.








I'll be ok. I'll take tylenol for the headache, drink tea, eat chicken and rice, soup. Rest, read.







Safe.