I had some kinda nasty flu bug this week.  It lasted 24 hours.  It started with some olympic quality vomiting in which I regurgitated everything I had eaten that day, everything I had eaten the day before and perhaps everything I ate last week in Alabama.  In fact, I'm pretty sure I saw a piece of gum in there that I swallowed in fourth grade to avoid being busted by Sister Theresa.  While, I was surprised to see it, I was also kinda relieved since scuttlebut in fourth grade was that you do NOT digest gum - EVER!  I was never so happy as when the projectile portion of the show was over and I could sleep. 

Well, sleep for fifteen minutes anyway.  That's when the virus moved beyond my Herculean powers of regurgitation and into, shall we say, the other portal.  I have had a colonoscopy and done the prep for that.  Let's just say this was worse.  Way worse. 

That as it turns out was just the prep for the next part aka Welcome to HELL.  Despite an ambient temperature in my apartment of 74, I felt the need to crank it to 84 and pull out not just the spare blanket, but the down comforter I use only in the coldest part of the winter.  I had visions of pirate lord Sao Feng pulling on his chain and saying "More heat girl" and I dutifully piled on blanket after blanket.  I ended up under the down comforter, a regular comforter, a fleece blanket, a cotton thermal blanket and flannel sheets wearing the famed penguin pants, wool hiking socks and a thermal shirt.  Still I shivered and Lucifer himself laughed.  Hell isn't hot at all as it turns out.  It's stone cold and soulless. 

I must have finally drifted off and that's when the phase started which I think of as the Salvadore Dali on Acid phase.  The fever induced visions would have made Hieronymous Bosch sit down to take notes.  I can distinctly remember starting off sanely enough having a panel discussion with Buddha, JC, Captain Jack, and Muhammed Ali.  I guess the prophet Muhammed was otherwise engaged and couldn't make panel.  Then I am in the middle of the Gobi desert watching what I think are two camels run toward me - btw camels running is very funny even when one is delirious.  Turns out they are really deer with mountain lines on their backs, jaws clamped agains their windpipes.  They skid to a stop right in front of me and thrash their death throes.  A forest of trees with knotholes like mouths singing opera.  Trees that turn into middle-aged dudes in a white van in which I am riding.  Dudes with sapphires where their eyes should be.  I jump out of the van onto a sea of glass shards and swim up to a beach panting and puking up pieces of sea glass.  I have done shamanic training and am used to visions.  NONE of that prepared me for this.  So intense were the visions that I registered neither the thunderous hail-filled storm raging outside nor the guy sanding the newly installed hardwood right above my bed in the upstairs apartment, an apartment with notoriously thin walls and floors.   

When the clock finally clicked over to that 24 hour mark, the hobgoblins packed up their sideshow and left with nary a backwards glance.  The fever broke and sweat began to gush out of my already dehydrated husk of a body.  I might have stumbled to the kitchen for some Gatorade before returning to bed, tossing off the thousand and one blankets and falling back to sleep.  The sleep of the dead.  It lasted 12 dreamless hours. 

I got up this morning, showered and went to work.  Sick days are so over rated.