post-illness delirium

I decided not to go to school today. I'm still weak from yesterday, after suffering from pneumonia-like symptoms induced by dehydration. It felt like my legs would fail me when I stood, and I couldn't think of anything besides my staggering fatigue and my fluctuating temperatures. I even took a bath, something I haven't done since I was in elementary school. It was right before a choir concert, when choir was a required class, and the water heater had gone cold. My mom boiled pots of water on the stove and dumped it in. I wore a hideous little dress that looked like a shrunken business suit, and I had a ring with Jasmine depicted on it -- you know, the one from "Aladdin." Since then, the tub has been allowed to fill with tumbleweeds of cat fur, and nothing besides cash reimbursement could persuade me to start scrubbing. I was freezing from my fever yesterday, so I turned on the whirlpool, something that used to scare me when I was younger because it was so loud. It came close to overflowing the bathtub with bubbles, and it made me giddy with amusement, and had I not been skipping hand-in-hand with Old Man Death, I might have even laughed. You have to make your own fun around here.

My mom bustled into my room around 6am this morning, encouraging me to eat or take a shower after discovering that my fever had dissipated. Considering that, moments before, scaling the stairs had caused my knees to quake in overexertion, I got the feeling that attending school would render me a convulsing puddle of pasty pulp clinging to the soles of designer shoes belonging to guys who claimed they were allergic to the law and practiced striding in front of their momma's full-length mirror so they could saunter much like a boat sways during a storm in the hope that doing so would communicate that their hot tamales have grown to such large proportions that they have almost become a burden. If it weren't for the well-endowed women who giggled in delight upon pretending they had mounted one of the rickety rides in front of the abandoned KMart building across the street from BoozeMart, reduction surgery might have to be pursued. To wrap up their sordid tales from the West Side, they'd lean back in their leather-bound swivel chairs and grin smugly, take another hit from their narcotic blossoms, and muse upon exhale, "Once she put that quarter in my ear..."

Hot damn, what the hell was I talking about? Oh yeah, so I decided going to school with those vacant-eyed folk who insist upon stopping midway down the stairs or in the hallway would force me to dive over the stairwell headfirst to end the suffering.

I had a dream this morning, after my mom left my room and told me I could stay home. I dreamt that I stole a pair of pants, and after I arrived home the store clerk called me up and demanded that I come back. I admitted to stealing them right away, even though I hadn't, considering I had placed them on the counter to purchase along with all of my other clothing items. When I returned to the store, the clerk claimed I hadn't paid for anything, even though I had shelled out almost eighty dollars for everything else I had bought. When I refused to pay for what I hadn't stolen, he went over to the blackboard on the wall and drew a picture of me as a man and with a golf club. This was very embarrassing in the context of my dream, because he had even written "Kate" next to the picture and underlined it. Then he plopped into a little go-cart and rode around the mall insulting me with the aid of his megaphone.

The trials of being ill.