This hasn't been as bad as some illnesses. I saw it coming and took steps. Had the medicines running into my system early and often. And put the world on notice that I was going to be spending most of the time in bed and the world could just deal.
What's been interesting about this particular illness is my dreams. I normally have vivid dreams, but these have been...different.
Characters and plot lines long discarded have come back to life in my dreams. I've watched an array of my former favorites cross the screen of my mind, altering themselves just a little, as if to entice me to bring them back to life again on the pages of a novel.
I'll wake up, stagger out of bed for some water or another dose of medicine, fall back to sleep, and there's another set, showing off for me as I slumber.
I enjoy them, but during one particularly vivid dream, with some of my 'oldest' discarded characters, I realized it seemed less like a dream and more like I was watching ghosts. And not just any ghosts -- ghosts of loved ones long gone.
A part of me wants to resurrect them from the dead. However, love and nostalgia aren't the same as merit. They were retired for a reason and those reasons remain.
But while I want to get well, and think I finally am, I kind of hope these fever dreams last just a little while longer...