On Trials, Nightmares, and Cold Twilights.

I had a dream last night which seemed to reflect my current perception of life. I was in an upstairs room in my house, a room built into the roof space and boxed in with a ceiling and four walls. I looked at the ceiling and saw a gash opening up, about a foot wide and spreading towards the wall. Plaster and other detritus was crashing to the floor around me. When it got to the edge it continued down the wall to leave a view into the dirty, gloomy roof space beyond. I saw a rat glaring at me out of the near-darkness, and then a large bug at least the size of a golf ball crawled towards me. I had no idea what it was, but it was coloured bright blue and I had to concentrate in order to avoid stepping on it as I picked my way among the rubbish littering the floor. I was beset by a fear that the periphery of my world had fractured and allowed the potential for all sorts of creeping, crawling, biting creatures to enter my private space. And then I woke up.

I’m sure this is all to do with my impending CT scan on Monday. I’ve had nightmares before when a trip to the hospital for the annual CT scan was due. I check my blood pressure regularly at the request of the doctor, and the past two days it’s increased dramatically. Going for CT scans is something I find highly disturbing because I feel as though I’m going to trial and will then have to wait for the verdict and possible sentencing. 

If I tell people this, they don’t get it. Most people take the rational, pragmatic view: the scan is there to catch any problem early so that it might be successfully treated. I know that, and I remind myself of the fact, but it doesn’t stop the disturbance, the nightmares, or the increase in blood pressure. (And wouldn’t it be ironic if the prospect of having a CT scan brought on a coronary? Some people I know might even find it funny.) I’m not sure why this should be. I imagine it’s to do with the fact that I don’t feel entirely connected to the human race, the cultures and perceptions to which it subscribes, or the corporeal nature of life at this level. I suppose I’m some sort of oddball.

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This evening’s twilight was cold, dull, and windy. Such twilights almost always connect me with the last days of Camelot in Tennyson’s Idylls of the King.