Thursday, 12 June 2014

O(h) J(ones!)


I wrote this last night.



UTI infection.
It's Wednesday night, the 11th of June. I haven't eaten solid food since Sunday afternoon. This week I've lived on a diet of painkillers, antibiotics, water and sugary sugary fruit juice.
Being an alleged UTI I'm not sure why it is my back and sides hurt quite so much, my abdomen sure, my chest though? I suppose the headache is due to dehydration because I'm not drinking as much as usual due to nausea. The thought of solid food has me retching slightly.

I seem to be mostly able to sleep when the pain briefly subsides and I can lie in some kind of comfort/absence of agony. It really is awful.

I have glimmers of lucidity though, and today I managed a shallow tepid bath and even cooked some plain (brown) rice... I did not eat the rice. It is waiting in the refrigerator for me, quite menacingly I suppose after what I needlessly inflicted upon it today....

I had a dream shortly before 10 pm, only the last scene of which I recall in any great detail.

I had been dropped off at my mothers hospital (in a white taxi or teachers car, fellow students of mine were being dropped off further on, though students of what I've no clue- I vaguely recall swimming baths...), it was night. 

Raining.

I saw reflections in puddles.
The hospital was not the actual place of work that is my mothers, Ystradgynlais local hospital.
It seemed to be big and white, though in the dream everything above ceiling height in an average room was cut off from my view.


I suppose I just wasn't looking up.

In the empty waiting room (which also seemed to be tomorrows breakfast room) the nurses had evidently set up tables of varying sizes, with waiting room type cushioned and carpeted chairs in their orbit.
On the tables, in glasses and cups of various size, shape and indeed material (some tiny wine or rather port glasses, some larger cut crystal vessels and various highballs, tumblers, cups and mugs made of glass, clear and opaque plastic and even paper). All without exception full of orange juice. 


No other crockery, cutlery or even tea, coffee or cereal paraphernalia.

Just orange juice.

Suddenly my cousins were there, my mother's sister's children (now adults like myself) Owen and Catrin, my brother Thomas also, and my mother's sister herself, my Aunty Anne. It transpired we were all waiting for my mother, for some reason.

Then my brother produced this tiny mouse from his pocket which he alleged he'd birthed but moments ago!

My aunt was overjoyed! Beaming, she turned to my cousin Catrin, with the tiny little grey mouse in her palm and said how much they resembled one another. "Oh you were this tiny and cute and grey when you were born!"

Catrin did not seem amused, I could sort of see it, she was very cute and her (now very dark hair) was a lighter greyish colour (no doubt due to it's scarcity at the time). Though, obviously she was much larger and really quite pink, being as she was at the time a human baby, not a tiny furry mammal with a tail and what appeared to be a tiny mouse penis...

Owen laughed but also told his mother she was a bit of a dick, and  proceeded to empty the orange contents of a nearby ribbed white paper cup down his throat.

Catrin also downed a juice, from a genteel looking long stemmed sherry or port glass. Then another, as the first had been merely a thimble-ful.

Thomas was so overjoyed with the mouse he'd had 2 pints of juice already.

My aunt joined in.

All I could think of were all the strange cups.

When I awoke moments later, my mother came into my room to see if I was still slightly feverish and to check overall how my day had been.

Relaying the fresh dream to her, I was gently crying gentler laughter.

"You're off your head" she said.

"I'm dying for a glass of juice" I said.









On a tenuously connected thread, here is a sleeping mouse I found on the island of Portland in November 2011, sleeping right beside a busy climbers path.



I'm fairly certain it was a regular mouse of the kind with mouse parents, indeed my big brother was nowhere near the island.
I scooped him out of the climbers path and offered him some Cashews, which he drowsily devoured, I figured he'd hibernate on those fatty bad boys for many a month.


Here is he leaving with more of a spring in his step and he made his way safely into a hedge type place of plenty of foliage.



Some orange trees I saw in Fez, Morocco (March 2011)....