Anyway, last night, I had that getting-sick feeling. You know what I am talking about--when you're so tired, you're throat is pricking you when you swallow, your limbs weigh about one hundred pounds...each. So, I took some Nyquil. Two gulps of the stuff. What, don't look at me like that! I don't have a problem, I just wanted to sleep.
Man, did I have the strangest dreams.
I met Joy Division, the New Wave band. We all held hands and walked through a meadow while listening to Orbital. Of course, if you've seen the movie 24 Hour Party People, you'd know why the first New Wave band was enjoying electronica. That' s not much of a stretch. I jumped in the field and started flying. Then, we all went to a concert/movie where Ray Charles was singing and dancing. I felt out of place, but I still tried to dance along with the crowd. One guy threw up while dancing. Harriet Tubman was there, in the back, staring up at the moon in a sad way while the rest of the crowd kept singing and dancing. In the end, Michael was there. He suddenly kidnapped a white cat from a mean old lady, and set the cat down. The cat raced back home and picked up a white mouse by the tail, flinging it in the air. Children were laughing, and then, it was Christmas Eve, and Michael got on his knees and gave me a diamond...necklace. Very wierd stuff.
I awoke to the sound of the shower; Michael was up, already. Now, my fingers are sluggish and my head is still fuzzy. Everything feels deadened. But I can't help think about Ian Curtis, the lead singer of Joy Division, and that sad look on Harriet Tubman's face. I feel so grateful both visited my dreams, as though they were coming to me in particular, to assist me through the day.
Now, I'm still feeling drugged and a little too exhausted to think about work, but I'll trudge forward. After all, it's what Harriet and Ian would have done.
Oh, and of course, I've slipped Joy Division into the CD player.
