Christmas nightmares

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(WordPress is being weird by spacing my paragraphs too far apart from each other and I don’t feel like fixing it tonight.  However, the rest of the unexplained idiocies are purely my doing.)

I’ve been really sick for the past few days.  I mean seriously sick with a massive life shattering head cold.  I already went through two boxes of tissue’s and my NyQuil is running low.

It all started on Christmas when I went to my brother’s house for dinner.  Fran, my bro, made this really awesome sangria that he loaded with fruit and bourbon and whatever else, and it tasted like fruit punch.  He served it to me in a mason jar.  I was on my third jar when my throat started closing up making it hard to swallow the purple deliciousness.  I was happy, tipsy and peppy one minute, and the next I wanted to pass out on his couch.  Exhaustion hit me hard.

Alexis (my 13-year-old niece) – “Let’s play Dead Island!  Will you play it with me?”

I look at the package and see that it’s rated M for mature – “Um, well, it’s rated M and it says it has blood, gore, drug reference, intense violence, sexual themes, strong language and use of alcohol.  Sure, I don’t see why not.”

I sarcastically looked at my mother who bought her the game for Christmas.

My mom – “Alexis is a very mature 14-year-old.  She’s old for 14.”

Alexis – “But I’m 13.”

I put the game in the Xbox and listened to the Dead Island theme song which was a vulgar, swear littered rap.  Every other word was fuck.  But do we shut off the game and watch It’s a Wonderful Life like I suggested?  No, no we do not.  Instead I got stuck playing this gruesome game on a big-ass plasma tv.  I literally squealed when I got eaten by my first zombie, and Alexis was jumping up and down screaming at me to run the other way.

Me – “Why don’t you play?  I don’t want to play this game, it’s too scary.”

Alexis – “No I can’t, I’m doing my nails.”

She quickly grabbed her little nail kit she got for Christmas.

The game was scaring the hell out of me.

Mom – “Aww look at little Mellie, she’s so scared.  She’s still such a little girl.  Isn’t she Fran?  Isn’t she still such a little innocent girl?”

She say’s this like she’s poking fun of me, but doesn’t realize she’s poking fun which is the worst kind of poking fun because it’s the sincere kind!

In the meantime, Fran and Melissa were serving us our five course dinner.  I got served a cup of seafood stew for the second course.  It was chock full of mussels, scallops and thick, long octopus tentacles that could reach far beyond my tonsils.  I actually like octopus tentacles (I’m weird like that), but it was a bit hard to get down with my newly forming sore throat and all.

After dinner, Fran let out his three big dog’s from their room so they could frolic and romp on top of me.

Me – “This is like the Bumpus’s hound dogs from A Christmas Story.”

They climbed all over me and tried pushing me off the couch.

Overall it was a good Christmas and I wouldnt’ve had it any other way.  I was, however, sick as a hound when I got home.

My mom bought me a four-inch memory foam mattress topper for Christmas (five inches too big all the way around), so I been nesting on that for the past four days.

I’ve been playing video games, watching Netflix, surfing the web and whenever my NyQuil would kick in, I nap.  It sounds like a good time, but it’s not.  I feel so crappy.  I’ve been telling all my friends that I might not make it to the new year.

I pulled myself out of bed to give ten hours of massage yesterday and today.  It was treacherous and tiresome, but I hate calling out of work.  And while I was massaging, I was lost in thought on some outstanding, wonderous blogging idea’s.  I concocted some thought-provoking, nail-biting blogging reflections but all I can muster out of me tonight is this garbage.  Blah, I have a brain bug.  The cold virus got to my brains!

I should take my NyQuil and get some ZZZ’s.  I get horrible insomnia when I blog before bed.

I’ll just write real quick about the dream I had before waking up today.  I was nearing my 12th hour of NyQuil induced slumber, delirious with medicated exhaustion.  I could feel myself sweating, tossing and turning.

I have two neighbors that live down the street from me on my dead-end road.  My closest neighbors house is very old and dilapidated and the town had to kick out the occupants so they can condemn it unlivable (this is real life, not the dream).  The second house I never seen before, but I know it to be also condemned.  It belonged to the grandparents of my closest neighbors so it’s even more broken down and decayed than the first.  It’s a good setting for a spooky story.

My dream was about the second house – my neighbors abandoned grandparents house.  I dreamt my dad wanted to buy the property for me and fix up the house so I can live there.  I thought it sounded like a great idea, so we walked down the dusty unpaved road and arrived at a pristine, shiny looking house. I felt like I hit the jackpot.

We went inside and the place was nice enough, but the closer I looked at the walls, the more damaged and old everything became.  There was an old woman who lived there.  She was showing us the house, but wouldn’t let us see the upstairs.  Instead she taken me and my dad into rooms on the first floor that were getting smaller and smaller until we ended up in a very cramped, tiny bedroom.

Me – “Umm, I don’t know about this……”

Old lady – “I purchased this house for $38,000 many, many years ago.  I’m only asking for the price I originally paid.”

Me – “Oh wow!  Okay, that sound good to me”

Her and my father started discussing the details and headed back outside.  I thought that I could snatch up the house for 38 grand and flip it and make a small fortune.  But first I needed to inspect the rest of the house.  So, I bravely snuck upstairs.

I walked up to the second floor landing and seen that it had a few extra bedrooms.

Me – “Oh good, if I decide to stay here I can have friends over so I’m not alone here.”  I felt more hopeful and the house less creepy.

Each bedroom had at least three small beds.  Upon closer examination of the beds, I realized that some of them were toy beds – meant for a doll to sleep in (this is the second time this month I dreamt about these small beds.  The first time I saw them I was on the top floor of a mansion and somehow I ended up in a river getting attacked by a duck).  I walked out of the bedroom and came face to face with the old woman who was showing me the house.

Me – “Oh, I’m sorry I just wanted to see the rest of the house.”

Old lady – “It’s okay dear, you can see the rest of it.  There’s lot’s to see.  You should see what’s down that hallway.”

She pointed to a dark gloomy hallway that lead into a big room.  This is where the dream gets a little fuzzy, unfortunately.  When I woke up today I could’ve recited the dream from beginning to end, but I waited too long to write about it.

Anyway, back to my dream.

I suddenly wasn’t alone to inspect the house anymore.  Both my parents were there, my friends, and a house appraiser, house inspector, a realtor – but I managed to get separated from the crowd.

This is when I started seeing ghosts.  Not happy, Casper-friendly ghosts, but ghosts from an insane asylum that got closed down for being accused of heinous crimes such as beating the patients and/or testing drugs on them.  It was like being at the Overlook Hotel from The Shining.  The ghosts seemed like real people, only crazy.

I stumbled into one gigantic room that was the asylums’ cafeteria.  I saw insipid people sitting at long table’s – some being spoon fed by Nurse Ratchet look-alikes.  Most of them had a dull, lifeless (no pun) expression.

I know so far this dream sounds horrifying, but I wasn’t really scared.  Playing Dead Island scared me more than this dream did.  I can’t explain why that is.

I regrouped with everyone who was oblivious to the houses’ dark past and secret monsters.  My mom was wearing a Nurse Ratchet hat that I pointed out to her.

Me – “This place is haunted!  Why won’t anyone believe me!  Look, you’re wearing one of the nurse’s hats!”

Mom – “No I’m not.”

She took the hat off and it wasn’t a nurse hat anymore.  She showed me a regular hat.

I wish I can remember the dream in its entirety, but I can’t.  I may have been a little scared during it, but felt like I could conquer the ghost’s that were living there, and I somehow knew they couldn’t physically harm me.
When I got up this morning, I went upstairs to make breakfast and to tell my parents about my dream.

Dad – “You know that’s funny because there was a guy there today (at the spooky house) taking pictures of it.”

Me – “Why was he taking picture’s of it?”

Dad – “I think it has something to do with the mortgage.”

I don’t know how my dad spotted this alleged man taking pictures of that creepy house.  It’s so far into the woods!  I stopped asking him questions because I never get an interesting answer.  My imagination like’s it when I don’t ask questions.

I seriously can’t watch scary movies or play scary video games without having a nightmare come of it.  I’m done with them!  Done with them I tell you!

I have to sleep, it’s way past my bedtime.

I’ll leave you with a Holly text joke to lighten your spirits:

Holly:  Did you know diaherria is hereditary?

Holly:  *diarrhea (i spelled it wrong)

Me (completely ignoring her text and referring to how sick I felt):  I think I’m dying still.  You were a good friend I just want you to know.

Holly:  Lol you’ll be okay.  thanks! you werw a good friend too

Me:  I like to hear facts about diarrhea.  Tell me more!

Holly:  Diarrhea runs in your jeans!  hahahaha (get the joke?)

Me (messing with her):  Oh it’s a joke?

An hour and a half goes by……

Me:  I get the joke ha ha

Holly:  Lol. yes it is a joke!  Q: do you know diarrhea is hereditary?  A:  it runs in the jeans!  hshaha

Me:  My jeans are tight.

I didn’t think I would type the whole texting convo, but it sounded funny, so why not.  My brain is not working today, seriously.

I

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Day Four of Korea

Time goes by way too fast on NyQuil.  It puts you in a whole other dimension.

I’m liking this way too much.  Laying here in bed and watching movie’s all day.

I had to give two massages yesterday at the spa down the street and it wore me out.  I fantasized about my bed and about NyQuil.

Ode to NyQuil

I shutter from a chill

I take a soft swallow

Of my NyQuil

Warmth envelopes my throat

It’s as if I’m floating on a boat

Down a green river of delight

Down into the emerald night, everything will be alright

The green river slithers down my esophageal

Filling me up as if a meal

It subsides in my insides thwarting instances of the flu

It presides in my insides turning my hue less blue

No more aches or fever bakes

No more cold toe’s, runny nose

Coughing, sleepless tossing

No more sneezing, breathless wheezing

It does what no pill can

I am a NyQuil fan

Grassy, sprouting, immature green

The color of youth, undecayed, tender, lean

You know what I mean

NyQuil

It’s the bee’s knee’s

I gave up on the poem at the end, a little.

I’m exhausted.  I can’t tell if it’s from the 14 hours of sleep, or if I’m still legitimately sick.  Let me brush my teeth.  Maybe I’ll feel different after brushing my teeth.

I feel a little better, but not by much.

I guess now is a good time to write about my day four of Korea.

Sarah had to work unexpectedly, so it was just Kristina and I to venture off into the big Korean city all by ourselves for the day.  I already wrote about that here.

That night we met Sarah’s little friend from Manchester, England, Rachel.  Rachel is absolutely awesome and I’m very upset I hadn’t taken any pictures of her.

We went to this backwards restaurant for dinner.  Here are pic’s from inside the restaurant.

That’s the way into the place.

This was my view while sitting at our metal table.

This was the menu.  It was two wooden boards with chalk pictures scribbled on them.  I wanted to point to eggs over my-hammy, but couldn’t find it.  I did, however, find a picture of a flying squid.

A quiet, omniscient boy in a black hoodie served us.  His hood was up the entire time.  He served us two cooked birds on two big dishes.   We each got a fork and a tissue napkin.  We were to dig in and eat from the same plate.

It was rustic, and I liked it, except for this one mysterious bit of food that I shoved into my mouth and couldn’t swallow.  Sarah lent me her tissue napkin so I could spit it out.  Rachel told me I won a prize for finding the inedible portion of the meal.

After dinner I asked Sarah to give me a cool, chill pose.

We went to the Red Bottle.

They had the Wii.

Hoards of alcohol went down my gullet that night.  When I reach a certain level of attention from the people in my immediate surrounding, mixed with a high dosage of alcohol, I start getting physically aggressive and my body wants to do weird spasmodic dances to keep the attention on me.

After beating everyone at arm wrestling (and telling them it’s not cheating if you throw your body into it), I started dancing.  Not breakdancing at first, but just regular dancing.  The more I danced, the more people paid attention to me.  The girls bartending grabbed me by my hand and pulled me behind the bar.   They fed me shots of jagermeister before turing me loose to dance some more.

It didn’t take long until I was on the floor spinning around.  I was trying to get little English Rachel to spin on her back with me.  I don’t recall if she actually did it or not.

I was breakdancing to Michael Jackson’s Beat It, and doing perverted things to a chair.  Why do I always end up fondling a chair?  I don’t know, I don’t remember.  But it’s over and it’s done –  I can close that book.

It was the alcohol.  That and I didn’t get much attention when I was a kid, so naturally stuff like this happens to me.

I was teaching this meek Korean man how to do the tango.

That’s all the pic’s I have of day four.  Now I don’t know what to do with myself.  I’m too sick to go out, but not sick enough to lay in bed.  I want to get snockered on NyQuil.

My Second Ode to NyQuil

You are my wife, my husband, my lover in sin

You shower me with kisses when you dribble down my chin

I hack up mucus, but you love me all the same

If you had ears and eyes, you would read my poems

and not think them lame

For you are my NyQuil

You are the bee’s knee’s

Afternoon snack-time with my laptop

It feels so good to take a shower, slip on some comfortable PJ’s and roll back into bed to watch a good movie with little Ralph Macchio that you never seen before (Crossroads on netflix).

I had a productive day today.  I woke up at 7:30 am and finally unpacked my suitcase.  I even picked up all my snotty wads of tissue that I gallantly tossed on my bedroom floor.  I’m showered and everything is in order and it’s only 11:30 am.

I’m sipping on some chamomile tea and eating yogurt – it’s my afternoon snack time.

I’m feeling better today.  Not good enough to venture out on this cold, rainy new england day, but good enough to lay off the NyQuil for the time being.  NyQuil seriously saved me.  NyQuil is my antibiotics.  I got carded when I bought it Friday night after work.

Me – You want my license?

Counter guy – You have to be 18 to buy it.  I’m making sure people don’t party with it.  You won’t party with it, will you?

Me – No, I’m just really sick.

I love to cuddle up with my laptop in bed.  Is that sad?  A guy wouldn’t want to cuddle up with me while I’m coughing in his ear and blowing my nose on his shirt, not that I would actually do those things, but I would like the option present.

Oh laptop, I love you.

I’m tired.  Maybe I should nap.

Alexis, my 12-year-old niece, just brought over her two pet guinea pigs.  Now I’m in the sanctity of my bedroom downstairs listening to her loud footsteps stomping around upstairs.  She’s not even 100 pounds, how could she make so much noise while moving?

I’m taking some more NyQuil.  They should make it into juice-box form.

Day three of Korea

It’s 9:18 am and I’m laying in bed counting down to when I can have my next dose of NyQuil.  They say you should only have one dose every six hours, but for me I need it every five. I’m impatiently waiting for the six-hour mark to roll around because I want to avoid further liver damage. 

This stuff is fabulous!  It puts me out for a good five hours of deep sleep – no more waking up thinking I’m riding on a train or a plane.

If I didn’t call out of work today, I would be half way done with my first massage.  I feel so horrible for going to work yesterday.  HORRIBLE!  I feel horrible because now my clients are going to get whatever I have – and whatever I have is bad, really bad.

I never get sick.  Whenever I hear people complaining about their ailments, I scoff and think to myself  “Stop being a baby and suck it up,”  now I’m the baby.  I am thee biggest baby out there.

I have a half hour before my scheduled NyQuil dose, so I have time to write about day three of Korea.

Kristina, Sarah and I wake up bright and early for our journey to the buddhist temple.  

It was a long walk to the temple, so we had to put on hiking attire.  I chose to wear my new shirt that I purchased for $3 on a street in Korea that reads: 

                                                           Paris in the world,

                                      There’s really only one Paris in the world.

We started our journey by hiking up this long, steep Korean street.  Anything uphill does not get along well with me, but I was hungry and Sarah said there was a cute restaurant in the shape of a mushroom when we arrive at the top.  Mushroom house was my incentive.

On our way there, we passed by a lot of strange little restaurants.  There are so many obscure places to eat in Korea. 

This is one of the restaurants, but you eat outside in campy-looking tents.

Anyway, we arrive at the mushroom house and order the pork.  It was the best tasting pork dish that I ever had in my life!  It was delicious.  Fortunately I remembered to take a picture of it half way through.

This was considered an upscale place to eat in Korea.  They served us western-style by giving us soup and salad to start, and then the main course.  I felt rich and privileged for eating there, even though the whole meal only cost $13.  They served us a glass of hot water when we first arrived.  I thought maybe hot water was a Korean thing, but they were the only restaurant to do that.

Five more minutes until my Nyquil – yay.

Okay, so we hike a little bit more up the hill after we eat.  We walk past some angry turtle monuments.

And some writing etched in rocks.

Sarah poses.

Kristina poses.

And we arrive at the temple.

It is time for my NyQuil.  Here we go, down the hatch.  Ahhh, much better.

We go inside one of the temples and see people praying.  When you see it done in the movies, it’s different.  When you see it done in person, it’s very strange.  People sit or Kneel on pillows in front of a statue of buddha and stand up, then bow down, stand up and bow down.  I didn’t want to leave until I counted how many times this is done, but it became too strange for us to be there after maybe three or four minutes so we left.

They say Buddhism isn’t a religion, it’s spirituality.  But the way those people were praying – some sitting and studying scriptures, some sitting with prayer beads and others going up and down, up and down on their hands and knee’s makes it feel like a religion to me.

In my opinion, I think religion is any type of worship – person, place or thing.  I love my camera – that can be a religion.  But what my camera does for me, that’s spiritual.  Can spiritual growth only happen out of loving something?

I think the NyQuil is kicking in.

It was old inside the temple except for an oddly placed clock hanging up on the wall.  It looked like a cheap plastic clock you can buy at walmart for $5.  I kept staring at it and then staring at the people praying, and then I would look at the buddha statue – something just felt off.

Trail to the monastery.

Doorway shot.

A real life monk!

After checking out the temple’s, we go on a long, arduous trek up the mountain. 

This was no easy task, but I give myself props for doing it.  The hike seemed like five hours almost all uphill.  It was insane, but glorious.  I must have had some divine intervention beside me pumping my body full of electrolytes because I was totally up for the challenge.

Kristina, Sarah and I all laugh hysterically when we see this pic of Sarah with her hair poofed out.

I taken so many awesome pic’s, but I’m going to put them on Flickr rather than post them all here.  I’ll only post the bare essential photo’s here.

When we reached the top, it was pretty cool.

After we reached the top, there was even more trail to hike on.

But we were still happy.

Oh I’m so tired, but I want to finish out this day. 

When we made it to the end of the trail, we taken a crazy bus ride all the way down the mountain.  It was like being on a rollercoaster –  I loved it.  It was even more spectacular while listening to Rockapella on my Ipod.

Later that day, we went to a Korean barbecue (at least I think that’s what it was) and sat on the floor for our meal.  Shoe’s come off at the door.

I like the way the food looks before its cooked.

My friends are adorable!

Most places in Korea serve water in strange plastic containers they leave out on the table’s.  It’s strange because all restaurants do this – in the same non-elegant plastic containers.

And you drink your water out of a metal drinking glass.

Okay, more bed for me.  I’m beat.