Last night I dreamt my own death. It wasn't literalized, was in fact highly metaphorical even for dreamspace, but I knew this for what it was. The situation involved top fuel dragsters, some of my co-workers from the Day Jobbe, and the cast from the recent Star Trek reboot, in character. Ultimately there was a botched beheading, and pale white blood.
I have got to get a handle on these emotional reactions to the apparent return of my cancer. (Now! Held over due to popular demand! SRO!) And I will, once we have some direction and a better sense of the treatment plan. But for the moment, the odd thoughts and disturbing dreams and emotional eddies are here.
Liver surgeon in a few hours. Then we'll know more.