Maybe this last run of posts will start a new trend in the blogosphere. We can call it cold-blogging. It’ll be all the rage for a few weeks and then die a slow death, only to be found on the wayback machine.
I can’t remember ever being this whammied by a cold before. It doesn’t seem to be getting any better even though I’m following all the common knowledge – keeping some food in, lots of fluids, lots of sleep. I’ve got a sore throat, painfully stuffed up sinuses, muscle aches and I can’t sleep. Blech.
The weirdest thing about this particular cold are the fever dreams I keep having. Without the fever. The dreams are these surreal mash-ups of whatever I was watching or reading before I went to bed. For instance, Saturday, after seeing Narnia, I had all these weird dreams about the Nam-Shub and entropy and something-ness vs. empty-ness and how it was important to name things to keep them from disappearing. Basically, Snow Crash meets Narnia meets The Never Ending Story meets Battlestar Galactica meets the Wizard of Oz.
And then last night, I had all these weird dreams about the Discworld. I mean a full-fledged story about how the ultimate goal of the Patrician was to make Ankh-Morpork ruler of the entire Disc, generations after he, himself, had died. See? Weird.
I just wish I could get some real sleep.