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A story of norovirus and zombies

Late last night, as I was finishing up on a project, I started to feel not well. Maybe it was the cup of blackberry and cinnamon tea I’d just tried for the first time. Maybe it was all the prunes I ate in my search to find something quick and easy to eat earlier in the afternoon.

And maybe, ugh, maybe it was the norovirus (stomach flu) that I was reading so much about on Facebook as friends posted about getting sick after attending a most lovely event called WickerMan Burn Festival 2017 at Four Quarters Farm.

I quickly packed up my work, grabbed a bucket to put by my bed in case I needed to puke and crawled in for the night. I attempted to see myself as light, as energy and goodness radiating and keeping harmful bugs at bay.

I was kind of chilly but couldn’t motivate to get up to get another layer of warmth. And I spent the first few hours of the night in a semi-dreamy, yet awake state of discomfort. My mind wandered.

In my sorta dream, I knew the zombies were coming. Not a full-on, prolonged assault in an apocalyptic end-of-times kind of way, but in a rush attack, sort of like how the 17-year locusts come: an onslaught and then they are gone.

In my dreamy state, I worked and worked to fortify the home (some interesting version of a home/space/tent/structure), and I did a remarkably good job of buttressing and strengthening the place against the zombies and in preparing with metal pokey sticks to crush their brains, were the zombies to breach my fortress and need to be fought off.

Along the way, I brought some more team members inside the fortress, and everyone was helping. We knew the situation was dire.

In my wakeful moments, I felt confident that I’d fought the norovirus, for clearly my dream was symbolic.
And then I saw it: there was an area that had been left unprotected, and it was too much for me alone to fortify. I asked for help, but the others were too busy doing other things. And I knew then, that I’d been breached. That I was sick.

I had a small, unpleasant episode in the middle of the night. And a small one this morning. I’m achey and lethargic. Slept most of the day. Can barely move.

I’m hoping these episodes I’ve experienced are it. Mild symptoms. IDK. Time will tell.

While it’s just a guess, I do believe that the actions I took in my dream were also me subconsciously fortifying my body against the zombie attack and may well have been my brain+body fighting off the virus as I slept.


Update: Yes, I did get sick. No, I wasn’t hospitalized and wasn’t sick for several days, as some people were. Maybe my fortify-the-house dream was part of my body’s defense system!

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