Frostwritten

In the continuing saga of “Allie’s Many Ailments,” I contracted both the flu and tonsillitis last week. It was the first time I have had to call off work in almost twelve years – the last time was Snowmageddon in 2011. I have also never been more miserable, including the conjunctivitis/hypertension/respiratory infection debacle of last year. I had never had the flu or tonsillitis before. The combination of 0% energy, a swollen, gnarly-looking throat, a 102 degree fever, severe chills, and horrible night sweats, was agony. I could only eat broth and ice cream for five days and barely got out of bed.

I fortunately was pre-scheduled for a five day weekend during all of this, which I did not get to enjoy or be productive during because I spent most of it delirious. I did binge watch the entirety of the second season of Judy Justice on Freevee, though. Prior to my confinement, I worked one full day sick because I didn’t know I had a fever (I am a responsible adult and did not own a thermometer at the time – I did a Target pickup order for one after my shift) but I did mask up and try to stay away from others. I just thought my face was on fire and my limbs had decided not to function properly. I actually don’t remember a lot of what happened for a good chunk of the time I was ill. Coworkers are telling me about things I said and did and I genuinely don’t remember doing or saying them.

Anyway, I’m better now. But since I hadn’t had a fever in over a decade, I wasn’t used to sleeping with one, and sweated through about five layers of blankets, which I only had to combat the chills. On the third (or fourth?) night, I fell into a bizarre, hyper-realistic dream cycle of sorts.

I dreamt I was walking through my apartment, and noticed items missing, which caused me to panic. And then I would realize I was dreaming, and “wake up,” only be in another dream, and in each dream, my apartment was missing more items, but it was also getting bigger each time, and the visions more vivid. And then I “woke up” for the final time. My apartment had become a huge manor, and I opened two massive doors and stepped onto an enormous balcony. I felt a refreshing breeze on my skin. The sky was full of bright stars. The stone of the balcony was cool beneath my feet. And it felt so, so nice – it was criminal when I woke up for real, in a puddle of sweat, wrapped in some very damp blankets.

And my fever had broken. Sure, it came back like two hours later and I was miserable all over again for a couple more days. But that fever dream felt so real, more tangible and vibrant than any dream I’ve ever had before, and it fortunately wasn’t entirely bizarre and unpleasant. That fever dream was the single time during my illness where I felt calm, and at peace, and that all would be well.

The brain truly works in mysterious ways.