They say if you dream about water, you want sex; if you dream about flying, you're feeling free; and if you dream about getting shot, you must have just lived through something horrific with your friend-ex-roommate Mike and you should call in sick to work.
Which is exactly what I did.
I could tell L'Atrice wasn't happy by the amount of 'Hms' I heard echoing into the receiver. She knew what I had been through but felt I should be glad to be alive and get right back into work.
"I'm not coming in today."
"Hm, hm."
"I'm still not feeling well."
"Hm, hm."
She didn't say anything else because she knew the power she could wield by her simple grunts. Until, finally...
"You live in a city, child. These things happen. But if you don't get back on the horse, you ain't ever going to ride. Not to mention the amount of work stacking up on your desk."
A poet she wasn't. I did miss work or rather, I missed Thea. But even she couldn't get me back to work just yet.
I still had to get over that dream.
It was a strange scenario of laying on the deck of a large cruise ship while it was being taken over by terrorists. Kind of DIE HARD meets THE LOVE BOAT.
It's funny to think about it now but when I was running down a dark corridor as the walls were being ribbed with bullets-- I wasn't laughing. I awoke to my heart pounding and my eyes wide with fear.
And then I realized I was okay.
I was home.
Mike was safe, Kurt was safe, I was safe.
But the overwhelming feeling of dread was still there. I suppose to be a part of something you only see on the news, in the movies-- and to replay it in your mind over and over because it actually happened-- is normal.
Isn't it?
I turned on the television and saw a commercial asking 'are you unemployed' with pictures of sad looking people who suddenly get perky working on bizarre electronic equipment.
I realized I had to turn off the television before I got depressed.
And definitely before I saw an ad for Princess Cruises.
