Half asleep, lying on Daniel’s sofa, I half dreamt about my uncle Greg, who is in hospital… Five hours later and Mum rings me to tell me that he collapsed this morning, and he’s “having a bad day”. I scare myself sometimes. The dream I had about him, was actually about his death, which sounds rather callous I know, but considering that he’s had three (or is it four?) operations and radiation treatment for cancer in the back of his throat, tongue and jaw bone, he can barely swallow anything, and he’s currently about 51kg; I don’t expect him to last forever. In fact, I’d say he’s already lived past his first prognosis.
I don’t know what to expect though. Who ever does?
Mind you, that dream isn’t nearly half as scary as some of the fever-induced hallucinations I’ve had over the last few days. Last night, for example, I was sure that the garlic in the kitsch ingredients photograph on the wall in Daniel’s kitchen was a very real 3D, and coming to get me.
I called Clay. After the craziness of my last week, I thought I’d catch up, see how he’s going, and let him know that I’m not at ‘home’, and that I’m sick as a dog. Apparently, he’d just tried to call me, at Craig’s place (aforementioned ‘home’), and left a message for me to call him… He’d just wanted to catch up, he felt that something wasn’t quite right, and he’s been feeling rather confused or something, about where we’re going and how we’re going about it… I have no idea what that means. But he wants to come over, possibly stay the night at Craig’s place when I get back there, but frankly, I’m not sure what he means by that, or how I feel about it.