November 9th, 2014

Ys

by now you know / it's not going to stop

Saturday and yesterday were bad days. I started suffering some low-grade (in the grand scheme of things) complications that necessitated sending somebody out for various substances in hopes of rectifying the situation, and said substances just made me feel sicker. I understood this process wasn't going to be easy, but the parts of it I thought would be hardest are actually manageable, and it's the so-called secondary problems that are making it hell.

I don't know if it's the drugs or the exhaustion or my thrown-off schedule or what, but I'm dreaming vivid, upsetting things (see previous entry). I also woke up in tears this morning, but the situation was different; I was back in London, and I was behind one of the British Museum complexes where a number of collection items not on regular display had been buried under asphalt. You could see the occasional statue-top protruding into open-air (a soldier on horseback, the crown of a bust, and so forth). I was sitting along the brick wall that closes in this section, and I was about to give myself a fatal injection. Someone found me just as I was about to do this, and I asked them if they'd come with me; we'd be able to explore the things that had been buried, then, and never have to say goodbye again. Dying in a place means never having to leave it.