My dad just dropped around to drop off some lemonade and food treats, on account of hearing that I’m home with a cold.
He is a good man, my dad.
It’s just a little cold. I hope. Fascinating sleeplessness night-before-last though, as the sickness rolled in on me like a stormfront, and I found myself lying awake nearly face-down on the pillow and with the clear awareness that my head was a seamless component of an enormous crystalline array of cubes constructed of thought. Ideas represented as small visual icons flipped through the cubes to line up in long significant sequences, but it was impossible to complete a thought because the meaning always extended out of reach into the distant extent of the array. I was awake and asleep at once, like a lucid dream that perfectly overlapped with reality. Heh. Consciousness is fun.
But, thanks dad! Yum. Red licorice.
I should mention that for the odd-sleep I was spliffed up to the eyeballs on a Panadol tablet. Maybe I should write it up for PillReports.com
They’re your problem. You’re not supposed to smoke Panadol in a spliff, silly billy. You’re supposed to crumble it into powder and snort it. Make sure to rub the residue into your gums.
I’m sure I told you that I once had a fever dream where my thoughts were huge, translucent gold bricks suspended in the room above my bed, rotating and shuffling length-wise. It was ace.
Ha. Before I got to the end of your post I was wondering if he brought red licorice. Not exactly sure what it is about it that makes Davies feel better, but it works. Perhaps the red food colouring offering us ‘pep’?
Or Beth it could be that it’s tangible proof that you’re loved and cherished, and THAT surely must send positive warm currents right through the poor sick parts!
Morgan, stop taking LSD.
Whoops, that last one was me, not Anne!
Matt B
I liked it better when I thought it was my mum.