I am embarrassed by how long it’s taking me to get the proofing done for the guitarist interview series, so I guess I’ll reveal why….
About ten days ago I woke up with a pain in my back that was probably around a 9 on the pain scale (10 on the pain scale is the most pain you’ve been in in your life). The pain was bad enough I couldn’t feel my legs at all & the only reason I could manage to get out of bed was because I had no choice. Over the next two days the pain in my back had pretty well dissipated, but I still couldn’t feel the bottom half of my right leg. Over the past week, the numbness spread up my leg as well as into my right arm & this morning it spread into the lower part of the right side of my face. So I’m kinda freaking out. It’s hard to concentrate on things when something that wrong is going on in your body. From all the research I’ve done & talking to a few folks in the medical field, the basic possibilities are it will go away in three months or be permanent & the list of possible causes are all diseases that only have pain managements as treatments & cost a lot of money to get officially diagnosed (multiple MRIs & all that). So I just need to deal with it, which is hard to do because the numbness gives me a feeling reminiscent of taking narcotics with liquor drinks (remember the late 1990s?).
Last Night’s Dream:
I’m hiding in my brother’s house & at first it looks like storm clouds on the horizon, but it’s the plumes of smoke from their war machines. I ask my brother to loan me two pistols & a rifle, that he can get them back from my dead body tomorrow. That they only want me & I shouldn’t have ever come there & gotten him involved. He tells me no. I start looking through the house for a gun, but all I can find are my nephew’s toy guns. My brother’s wife is sewing (mending a shirt) & my brother is sitting at a desk writing on a piece of paper looking out the window when the first air machine becomes visible. My brother asks me, “Are they all coming?” “Yes.” “Then let’s take this war to their city, when no one’s protecting it.” He rolls up a rug & lifts a trap door & hands me a backpack of guns & takes another for himself. He says, “Let’s go.” I hit him as hard as I can on his left cheek & he falls down, knocked out cold. I grab the second backpack & go outside running away from the house as fast as I can. Maybe my brother was right. Maybe I can take this war to them today instead of just dying.