Fever dreams

This week's Sunday Scribblings prompt is "dream journey."

When children had fevers, parents let them rage. When the fevers reached their peaks, fever dreams visited.

My first fever dream visited me during an extremely intense flu bout when I was eight years old. Decades later, I can still hold the scene clearly in my head as my temperature peaked. I lay on the bottom level of my bunk bed in the darkness, and the kitchen's light poured in from down the hallway. My mother fussed about with dinner for the rest of the family, and I could hear them talking. I stared at my black-and-white photo of Lieutenant Uhura, communications officer of the Starship Enterprise and my idol, taped to my wall. Her gaze seemed particularly kind that night, and I knew that if she were there, she would speak soothing words to me in Swahili and run her soft palm over my burning brow. She would take me to sickbay where Dr. McCoy and Nurse Christine Chapel would give me the shot-without-a-needle, and I would fall into a deep, restful sleep under a thin, silvery blanket. The crew would take care of me. My eyes closed.

I then remember being chased by a towering figure. I ran as fast as I could but made no ground. My skin felt prickly and heavy as some invisible goo enveloped me. I felt my eyes closing again as I ran, my lungs burning. I saw large round lights ahead of me, which looked comforting until they began to dissolve before my eyes, sending out a noxious vapor of luminous bubbles from all sides. I felt the bubbles rush past me. I froze and turned around to face my hunter: Marie Antoinette.

My neck craned to its breaking point as I peered up at the huge figure's unforgiving eyes. Judging from her punishing gaze, I had done something wrong. She grew larger and larger, her ivory face, tight coal-colored ringlets, and lace collar moving dangerously close to my face. Her scowl remained fixed, meting out her final verdict. She said nothing. I feared her collar, replete with sharp points which stuck out like infinite sun rays, would pierce me with their poison, and I would die.

I woke up. The transistor radio beside my bed again played "Just the way you are" by Billy Joel. This popular new song played once an hour, dominating all radio station's heavy rotation.

When I heard him croon, "I just want someone/That I can talk to..." for the umpteenth time, I looked at Uhura again and yelled, "Mom!"

Dreaming still, I got no response. I fell back into my delirious state, again running without moving, watching bubbles dissolve around me, pricking my skin, helpless to move. I slept because my taxed body gave me no choice.

The next morning felt considerably cooler. The heat casting its stifling cover over the previous sick day had disappeared and left nothing behind. The sun shone clearly and brightly. Uhura smiled at me. I picked up my diary, undid its combination lock, and recorded my dream journey from the previous day.

Even years after, when I had high fevers, that same nightmare visited me. After years of practice, I learned to stare Marie Antoinette down, though she never did leave.

For more takes on "dream journey" at Sunday Scribblings, click here.

Comments

[Mardougrrl]

Oh, I was right there wriggling in heat and confusion...your words just spilled over each other in that rhythm.

And Marie Antionette? I think I want another visit into your brain. :)

[bonggamom]

Wow, that must have been some fever! Nice take on this week's prompt.

[susan abraham]

Fever dreams always feel like nightmares. :-)
I'm glad you survived your's.
An interesting post.

[Bohemian mom]

Yes....there is nothing like a fever dream.
Great story!
I remember being very young and sleeping between my parents.....my high fever kept making me think I was levitating up to the ceiling and I had to keep calling them to pull me down.

[rel]

Kristin,
Those fever induced dreams are usually very sciece-fictiony. Your tale reminded me of this, but unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately;-)) I no longer am able to recall specfic dreams, only the memory of their bizzaarness. I was never one at an early age to record such things in writing.
rel

[Paris Parfait]

I've always heard about people with high fever having nightmares, but never experienced it myself. Your fever-pitch dreams sound a bit like science fiction - must be the Star Trek influence or Star Wars?

[waspgoddess]

Oh, I love nothing better than a wonderfully warped and surreal dream/journey whilst my body is held hostage by a raging fever.

Even though your fever journey had obvious elements of menace associated with it, it was a pleasure to read, and very well written.

[Tori]

This is such descriptive writing with such a great flow. I love your take on the Sunday Scribbling. Great characters that your dream pulled in.

[Nicole]

dreams can be so eccentric. have you ever tried to analyze that particular dream? it may be enlightening to read into or maybe not...
lovely writing.

[KG]

Mardougrrl — If I could give tours of my brain, I would!

bonggamom — I don't remember the exact temperature, but it's family legend that it was very high.

susan abraham — I'm glad I survived it, too. I know high fever can also indicate something very serious.

Bohemian mom — The dream you had about levitating is really fascinating! What a strong visual.

rel — Amazing that a lot of these dreams have a science fiction element to them! I wonder what that means.

Paris Parfait — Star Trek and Star Wars influence, both. Close Encounter of the Third Kind just came out around them, too. Interesting time to be a child.

waspgoddess — Thanks for appreciating the warped/surreal aspects of these. As scary as they are, I'm happy I have them.

Tori — My subconscious seems to have a lot of these types of characters stored up. Thanks much!

Nicole — I've never analyzed this one, and I really like your suggestion. Hmmm...

[Alexandra]

Dreams are fertile ground for stories...I love the lack of cohesion in dreamscapes, where you find you can walk through walls, fly, unaided, and do things that defy the general laws of physics.

Oh, and Marie Antoinette? Maybe you thought you were about to lose your head? lol! Just a thought.

[KG]

Alexandra — I agree with your reasons for loving dreams! And good take on Marie Antoinette's symbolism — I think you're right on track with that.

[Kimberley McGill]

"I learned to stare Marie Antoinette down" - Now that's impressive! I'm still trying to do some lucid dreaming to no avail.

[KG]

Kimberley — Staring Marie Antoinette down meant literally that I stared back at her; I felt no more fear as I observed her, but I never instilled the same fear in her that she had in me. Still, I guess this is a "win": fears usually chase us if we run from them, so facing them takes away a bit of their power.

I lucid dream only when I'm sick, incredibly overtired, or deeply relaxed. I wonder what that says about the body state necessary for this type of dreaming to happen.