CDC Symptom Diary Card

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Chemo dreams are bizarre

I entered this dark multi level home that looked like what you envision as a play house, only real.  All the floors are stacked and open, so you can see each room.  One super long straight stairway started from the bottom floor and went straight to the top floor, bypassing all the other floors.  I think the building has 4 or 5 levels.  None of the lower levels were any of my business as my duties were waiting for me at the top level. 

The room had a lot of iron d├ęcor, black and white tiles, and was probably only 5 foot wide by 20 feet long.  With one long side completely exposed, you could see all the appliances in the kitchen. The coal stove, paired with a brand new stainless steel refrigerator.  A porcelain sink below a basket of fruit.  Off to the side a wooden chopping block and a blender.  

To my left was my boss, an elderly heavy set woman with very dark hair.  She ordered me to melt a bag of chocolate chips.  As I started the melting pot, she instructed me to mix some kind of dough together on the countertop.  Her tone was that of a drill sergeant, barking out orders for each little detail of the recipe.  I had rolled the dough into a perfect circle and suddenly she said, “I am ready for the chips NOW!”  So I poured the chips partially melted onto the dough, rolled them into the dough and she shushed me away. Like a pig she just started eating it right off the counter with her hands.  I didn’t move, I just stood there and watched.

When she was done feeding, she gave me orders on how to manage the building.  She was very explicit about the maintenance of the pools, and that they were to be impeccable clear blue.  While she was speaking the house started to turn into a huge massive complex of apartments. 

The structure is enormous, at least 10 stories high, in a perfect square with an open center.  The brick was the color of a deep purple, very sleek and clean.  Off of each level projects an elevated pool, one for each area or apartment.  These pools are a marvel, no support underneath, an architectural feat.  Think cantilever. Looking down on them you see a flower of rectangular shaped basins of deep blue water, inviting and refreshing. 

I felt overwhelmed at the task, managing men who would be risking their lives to maintain these pools because of how they are suspended in air.  With each word of direction a new man appeared in my sight, showing up ready to do his job.  She introduced me to them one by one, but they did not look me in the eye.  They just walked away.

My boss disappears from my view and suddenly the skies turn dark and swirling clouds appear and lightening storms are off in the distance, quickly approaching the complex.  I run from floor to floor to pool to pool to warn the men that they need to get out of the water. They must hurry because lightening is coming fast, they will die!  I can see them now swimming in the pools mocking me, as if I am over-reacting to the impending storm.  They can only see the sky, they cannot see over the building to view the horizon.

With a crackle and boom our bodies jump as a bolt strikes one of the pools.  Luckily no person was in it but this causes all of the pools to shake and turn a deep green color.  The pools are reflections of the skies overhead.  The pools rock back and forth; there are dozens of them on just one level.  Water is flowing over the sides of the pools and I run screaming to the ground floor level. The men are yelling and scrambling to get out of the water. I run to an elevator to get to the main level.

I can see people using the indoor pools on the main level through the glass, and they are screaming trying to get out of the water. We are under attack in this storm.  I am looking for a place to hide and somehow I find myself at a reception desk that towers over me.  Literally I am looking up the nose of some skinny boy with glasses who directs me to the shopping area.  He was not fazed by the storm, just doing his job. 

I find myself in a shoe section fascinated with a pair of red maryjanes.  All the shoes are on sale for $7.99.  I want the red ones, with a soft red leather surface that sports a tiny little flower on the top near the toes.  I love these shoes.  I look and look and look and look for a matching pair.  I can only find mismatched sizes, and only one that fits, not two.  I am disappointed because these are perfect shoes.

A sales woman appears and shows me another pair slightly different. They are a more delicate shoe with a silvery purple finish that looks sort of dressy.  I agree to take them and as soon as I buy them I put them on my feet. Before my eyes they turn from a classy delicate shoe into a pair of handmade knit booties, like what you would see on a newborn.  They went from a beautiful shiny color to knitted pink.  Not a pretty pink, but a muted sort of purple pink, dulled.  They seemed old and used.

Then my phone rang and I woke up………………

Chemo dreams are bizarre......I am still waiting for nausea to pass.  Got very sick the other night....ugh.  Hate that.  I wonder what I will dream tonight.

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