Last night, I dreamed that I had cancer too.
I wish I could remember how it started.
For some reason, many of my dreams take place in this sort of beach land… perhaps Australia or something, with a pretty mediocre beach with sand and waves, an open deck onto the water coming out from large building that exists or doesn’t, depending on the moment in the dream.
What I do recall of last night is chatting with my friend L and her nurses. She looked like she looks now, sick, but smiling. I looked like myself. We were in a hotel room, sharing a bed with one of those ugly maroon flowered comforters. The nurses came in, and we each got an injection in our left arm. It looked like her TPN feed (her intravenous feeding tube), but it made my arm stiff and numbish—sort of that feeling when you’re getting your blood pressure taken and it feels like your arm is suffocating. Eventually, we both faded off to sleep.
While we were under, I think we were moved, and observed, and people came to visit us… I shouldn’t be able to know that, as in theory I was asleep, but I did. Then they came and repeated it for the other arm. It was like “something to get done.” Then I was done earlier than Leslie because she was sicker than me. And yet, there was some really wonderful wonderful feeling about having lymphoma too, even just a touch of it… almost as though I could carry some of her suffering with me.