The Greatest Dream
So I never write about the dreams I have, because for some reason, I always seem to lose the major concept or thread of them while trying to write them down. But the night before last, I was having this kick-ass dream, about zombies, and a pretty mean-spirited faceless killer (I call him Jason, because, well, it IS Jason, from the Friday the 13th movies, and no, you couldn't drag me to see the latest one, because I have a long-standing fear of all of them, even though I've seen all of them, broken up into pieces, because they feed my nightmares in so many ways), and they were, in tandem, chasing me all over the damned place, with gnashing teeth and machetes the size of my leg, and it was all run-run-running from place to place, until (and this was the very cool part of the dream) I realized I could teleport!
It was, at this point, that the dream started to get, well, bitchin', because I was suddenly in a place where anything could happen, but even in dream state, I knew I could teleport away from all the bad parts of the dream, so the dream just became this wonderful place where pretty much only good things could happen, and it did. Now, here's the part where I start to tell you about the really good part of the dream, abut how Fred and I ended up going to Burning Man, but had nothing to wear, because we were too busy teleporting to get the right clothes, but there was this very helpful store there, and I was grabbing the most amazing clothes thinking how funky and cool they were going to look, and it was all *so good* that when I woke up yesterday morning, I knew I had so much of it in my head that I could jot down huge chunks of it on (digital) paper.
So, the alarm goes off, and I throw back the covers, put my feet on the floor, and then...
I literally wake up on the floor, with Fred crouching down by my head, asking, "Is that blood? Are you okay?"
Yeah. So I kind of passed out and smacked my head on the carpet, which is this rough, twill-y, thin buffer between me and the hardwood floor. Fred said he heard me make a noise as I went down, but I don't even remember it. My head hurt, and I felt woozy, but you know, I had to get up and go to work. Fred was home sick, so he got me a cool rag with ice to put on it, and I started setting up my work computer. But after making a quick webcam shot for Facebook (I have sworn I will not let it replace my journal, hence this post!), I had a doctor friend advise me that I needed to go to the hospital NOW.
The shiner.
I only look that miserable because, well, you let a hardwood floor punch you in the face. Not fun.
So I heeded my friend's advice. Fortunately, Fred was home sick on this day anyway (we've both been nursing colds, mine being a sinus-y, nagging cough thing that started last Friday and turned my weekend plans into "pretty much playing Fallout 3 until my eyes bled while Fred went to the river and had fun with pals Paul, Derek, Chuck and John and I moped about it"), so Fred took me over to Davies, where I filled out paperwork, they led me into a room, made me put on a dressing gown, and the ER doctor checked my pupils, ran an EKG to rule out any heart issues, and ultimately ran chest x-rays to rule out pneumonia. They also gave me a tetanus shot (guess the road rash was a bit alarming, and I couldn't remember when I had my last booster), and drew blood from my arm to run more tests. On the bright side, the very nice nurse jammed an IV in my arm and fed me a liter's worth of fluids.
It wasn't like it was morphine, so I have no idea why I was laughing in this shot Fred took of me bedside:
Really. No clue why I was laughing, especially given the bill to follow.
Fortunately, everything checked out okay, and I was officially diagnosed with a "near-syncope". So basically, the combination of cold medicine, which lowers your blood pressure, to me getting up too fast in the morning, caused there to not be enough blood flow to my brain to keep me conscious. Good times. My head has been hurting since the fall, so I've been taking my Tylenol and trying to ignore it for the most part.
The worst part (aside from the road rash on my face, the shiner that is starting to surface, and the medical bill I'm going to have to pay to find out that essentially, nothing is wrong with me other than a bit of a bump on the head and your average variety cold)? I cannot for the life of me, remember what happened next in that damned dream.
But I can tell you, right before I woke up? It was awesome.
Oh, and I'm still taking questions as part of March is Question Month, here. (I just haven't gotten to one yet because of yesterday's debacle.)
It was, at this point, that the dream started to get, well, bitchin', because I was suddenly in a place where anything could happen, but even in dream state, I knew I could teleport away from all the bad parts of the dream, so the dream just became this wonderful place where pretty much only good things could happen, and it did. Now, here's the part where I start to tell you about the really good part of the dream, abut how Fred and I ended up going to Burning Man, but had nothing to wear, because we were too busy teleporting to get the right clothes, but there was this very helpful store there, and I was grabbing the most amazing clothes thinking how funky and cool they were going to look, and it was all *so good* that when I woke up yesterday morning, I knew I had so much of it in my head that I could jot down huge chunks of it on (digital) paper.
So, the alarm goes off, and I throw back the covers, put my feet on the floor, and then...
I literally wake up on the floor, with Fred crouching down by my head, asking, "Is that blood? Are you okay?"
Yeah. So I kind of passed out and smacked my head on the carpet, which is this rough, twill-y, thin buffer between me and the hardwood floor. Fred said he heard me make a noise as I went down, but I don't even remember it. My head hurt, and I felt woozy, but you know, I had to get up and go to work. Fred was home sick, so he got me a cool rag with ice to put on it, and I started setting up my work computer. But after making a quick webcam shot for Facebook (I have sworn I will not let it replace my journal, hence this post!), I had a doctor friend advise me that I needed to go to the hospital NOW.
The shiner.
I only look that miserable because, well, you let a hardwood floor punch you in the face. Not fun.
So I heeded my friend's advice. Fortunately, Fred was home sick on this day anyway (we've both been nursing colds, mine being a sinus-y, nagging cough thing that started last Friday and turned my weekend plans into "pretty much playing Fallout 3 until my eyes bled while Fred went to the river and had fun with pals Paul, Derek, Chuck and John and I moped about it"), so Fred took me over to Davies, where I filled out paperwork, they led me into a room, made me put on a dressing gown, and the ER doctor checked my pupils, ran an EKG to rule out any heart issues, and ultimately ran chest x-rays to rule out pneumonia. They also gave me a tetanus shot (guess the road rash was a bit alarming, and I couldn't remember when I had my last booster), and drew blood from my arm to run more tests. On the bright side, the very nice nurse jammed an IV in my arm and fed me a liter's worth of fluids.
It wasn't like it was morphine, so I have no idea why I was laughing in this shot Fred took of me bedside:
Really. No clue why I was laughing, especially given the bill to follow.
Fortunately, everything checked out okay, and I was officially diagnosed with a "near-syncope". So basically, the combination of cold medicine, which lowers your blood pressure, to me getting up too fast in the morning, caused there to not be enough blood flow to my brain to keep me conscious. Good times. My head has been hurting since the fall, so I've been taking my Tylenol and trying to ignore it for the most part.
The worst part (aside from the road rash on my face, the shiner that is starting to surface, and the medical bill I'm going to have to pay to find out that essentially, nothing is wrong with me other than a bit of a bump on the head and your average variety cold)? I cannot for the life of me, remember what happened next in that damned dream.
But I can tell you, right before I woke up? It was awesome.
Oh, and I'm still taking questions as part of March is Question Month, here. (I just haven't gotten to one yet because of yesterday's debacle.)