Cancer 138

I had dreams last night about both my PhD supervisor, Ian, and my sister, Helen. Both are dead. Ian had some sort of super space age weapon and was using it. Helen was involved in something about a route that kept closing. Dreams are generally meaningless to those who are told about them, but meaningful to the dreamer at the time. I know they were detailed, long and fascinating while I was dreaming, but I have already forgotten most of the details, so they don’t have much meaning. In the past I often had long film-like vivid dreams, complex stories, ones that I could often influence as I lay asleep. Sometimes I could wake up, go to the toilet, go back to bed and restart the same dream. It was cheaper entertainment than Amazon Prime.

It all stopped when I had my operation. Having your guts chopped up does wonders for sleep. I had heard that having an anaesthetic could significantly impact sleep for a long period, but I didn’t realise it would destroy my dreams for more than a year. It is only recently that I have started to have my vivid dreams again, the long and – to me – interesting stories about different things. Unfortunately, I am not remembering them well. This facility is starting to come back to me, so I am hopeful for the future.

Hopeful for the future. Hmm. I have been feeling quite well recently, and quite optimistic about the world. Then I took my shirt off and noted the hole in my chest with a tube coming out of it, the hole where my colon ended, covered by a bag, and the elastic tube around my ‘waist’ holding my hernia together and realised I should not have removed my shirt!