I woke up last night with a massive sinus headache. I lay in bed for a long time, hoping that I could just make myself go back to sleep and sleep it off, but that wasn’t happening. Then, my son got up and came into our room. I felt miserable, so I asked my wife to be up with him for awhile, thinking it was already at least 5:30, but it was only 3. So, she got up to help him go back to sleep, and I decided to take some Ibuprofen to help kill the headache.
After she’d gotten him back to sleep, I started to get really hot, and my stomach wasn’t happy at all with the Ibuprofen. Pretty soon, I was feeling so hot that I decided to sleep out in the living room away from the heavy comforter and extra body heat. But, then, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to fight my stomach anymore. I got all feverish and sweaty, and barfed several times to the point where I was pulling up blood and gunk that didn’t look so great.
I finally was able to fall back asleep on the couch, and had this dream where I’d gone into an apartment I’d lived in before in the dream, and some guys had shot me up and I was dying. But, it turned out that I was a secret agent for the CIA, and this had been part of one of my missions. And so, as I was barely hanging on from several gut wounds, someone from the CIA came and told me that he had one more job for me. I got up with all these tubes in me and wrapped myself up as best as I could and went to the airport.
However, at the airport, I kept producing versions of my driver’s license where my name was misspelled and didn’t match the spelling on the boarding pass, so they wouldn’t let me on the plane. I guess because they didn’t want me to blow my cover, they were making me fly coach and making me have to figure out how to get on the plane. I tried to tell the lady at the ticketing desk that I was very important and on an important government mission without telling her that I worked for the CIA. Some guy said that they would have to see what they could do, and made me wait in a special area with other people who hadn’t been allowed on the plane. Eventually, the guy came back and told me that there was a special clause where if a 112-year old woman said it was okay for me to board the plane, then I could, because of a certain mystical tradition found in the lore of Homeland Security that gave precedence to whatever 112 year old women said. The guy said he would go to the nursing home where such a woman lived, and fetch her and bring her back.
While I was waiting for him to come back, my son showed up, and I hung out with him for a while. The man came back driving a shuttle bus from the nursing home, but the old lady wasn’t in it. He said that they couldn’t wake her up to bring her to the airport, and that they’d have to think of some other way to get me on the plane. I started wandering about the airport in hopes of finding a means of getting on the airport and lost track of my son. Eventually, I received a text saying to meet them at a special location several blocks north of the airport, which was now apparently in Kansas City, in a place roughly where my dad used to work instead of being anywhere near either of the airports in Kansas City. I was supposed to wait for a ride to the meeting place, but I started walking, and this is when I realized that I’d just left my son somewhere without paying attention to where I’d left him.
I didn’t seem to care–I just assumed that someone would take care of him, and started wandering up through these really rough neighborhoods where people were looking like they were going to kill me. I woke up realizing I still had many more blocks to walk.
I am not really going to speculate too much on what the dream might have meant. It may have had something to do with my obsession with what my life’s mission is supposed to be here on earth, and the fact that I suppose I might be called to do one more mission when I die before I am permitted to go up to heaven for good. I assume the airport represents a kind of waystation for passing in and out of a given life, and most of my dreams that consist of me attempting to fly somewhere generally see the attempts thwarted or aborted, or I make it onto the plane but there is still much left to be done before the plane can take off.
I don’t really know why I got so sick, except that I had probably swallowed too much mucus on an empty stomach, and was maybe a little ill from having drank too much beer, though I really didn’t think I’d had that much to drink last night.
I slept most of the morning, and even dozed a little in the afternoon, and I’m still tired.
I invited my cousin and aunt and their significant others to have lunch with us today in kind of an impromptu fashion. Occasionally, I feel the need to be sociable without waiting for people to invite me to do stuff. My lunch stayed down, thankfully, though I still feel kind of lacking in appetite–I mostly just ate it because it was there.
I’ve finished the last of the paperwork I had to turn in for things to do in the fall. The company I interviewed with last week hasn’t called me back, so I am starting to assume that there was no further interest there. I guess I’m going to have to start getting ready to accept that I’ve moved on to some new phase of life, though I have had these moments where simply making a lot of money, socking it away, and giving some of it to the poor sounds a lot better than trying to move into a job where I am helping others full time.
My old, selfish nature has all but consumed me again in the wake of seeing so many things not turn out as expected down here, and me starting to feel the squeeze of being middle-aged without much savings and having a little one to raise.