This time, he and MaryAnn were living with offspring I knew quite well in the dream but who don’t exist in real life—a young man (his son) and a child (his grandson).
I was curious about what room in his house they were staying in, and Bill was giving me answers that didn’t make sense until finally, I realized, Bill’s moved.
When did you move? I asked.
Twenty-four weeks ago, he answered. In July.
He’d moved to an apartment in San Francisco, into the top floor of a white building on a treeless street. In the dream, there was a sense that he’d moved into an area where I’d been many, many times before.
When I woke up, though, I didn’t recognize the area.
And, of course, if he’d moved 24 weeks ago, that would mean he moved in April.
Spent yesterday feeling off.
I have this thing: I never like to use the word “sick” to describe how I feel unless I’m so incapacitated, I can’t get out of bed.
And since that rarely happens, I am never “sick”.
But there was definitely a health-related something going on yesterday.
It was an intestinal thing, but also, weirdly, a sinus thing.
I managed to mount some masks on my wall. And I went to the grocery store.
But that was it so far as useful work was concerned.
Of course, being me and living in a magical universe, I persuaded myself that I’d caught the plague from Lois Lane merely by texting with her. The CDC really needs to look into binary code over radio waves as a vector for coronavirus infection!
I’m still not 100% today. But better than I was yesterday.
Although, of course, it's still early. Crossposted from Dreamwidth.