Recently, I have been volatile. Not in any sort of worrying way, but in the sense that I have been much more prone to being blown away by the beauty of the world and of my own life in it. And I think I know exactly where this recent awe stems from, as well- I recently spent an entire week sick as a dog, a week that felt like I was a walking corpse, unable to see anyone, cursed to walk alone on a plane of reality that felt separate from our own. It was a sickness you just don’t see anymore.
It did not feel anything like any modern, “regular” sickness; with your theraflu, fleece blanket, and nasal spray. There was no colorful box of tissues while I watched the (exceptionally not good) new season of True Detective. No, this sickness felt nearly Victorian, almost medieval, in the sheer intensity of what was happening.
After almost a week of traipsing around the City of Angels, it was finally time to go back to San Francisco. My good friend & long car ride confidant, Jake, would take the first leg of the drive. It was a rejuvenating 5 days, filled with characters both old and new. Sipping bone broth alongside Korean housewives, stargazing at the Griffith Observatory, playing pinball along the pier, and getting into trouble at a circus themed liquor store in North Hollywood were just some of our newly minted core memories.
But, as we were exiting the grapevine, outside Los Angeles, I began to feel a bit…..different. My legs were seemingly of two minds, at one moment, they demanded to be still, the next, it felt as if I needed to take off and run the rest of the way back to the Bay Area. This persisted the entire drive back, including when I got behind the wheel of the car outside Bakersfield, and proceeded to accelerate really quickly, while Jake yelled at me to slow down . Driving helped calm me down a good amount, but I was still fairly antsy.
As we approached the baby blue chateau I call home, over in North Beach, I was feeling even crazier. I needed to simultaneously go on a run and also simply lay in bed for the next 12 hours. I was a man being torn apart, the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde of weird leg stuff.
My head was cloudy, a delirious fog that I was fighting all day seemingly jumped on me the moment I got home. I decided to lay in bed, and promptly fell asleep, feeling relieved. Yet, it was for naught. I was so foolish, so naive to think that simply falling asleep would solve everything. I was not prepared for where my mind would go, for what dreams I was about to fall into.
In the first, a gigantic cloud of dust had just materialized in front of my eyes, along with a great rumbling, one that knocked me and the others to our knees. Hundreds of people shouting, with blood splattered onto the stones and dozens of sandals shuffling through limestone arches. I looked down and searched for any wounds of my own, and found none. I was confused, but knew exactly where I was.
Oh. Oh no. My dreams had finally led me to a point of no return- I was commanding a Roman legion, clad in armor, with a sense of duty to both the Emperor and myself.
This continued for the next few nights. Every time I fell asleep, I was thrown directly into the shoes of a man who was commanding a couple thousand soldiers on how to seize towns & villages, where to advance, and how to spread the glory of the Roman Empire. Less of a power fantasy and more of a nightly series of absurdist comedies, I woke up nearly every single morning after the dreams drenched in sweat, immediately needing a shower. My head still ached, and I googled “plague symptoms.” I was relieved, but a bit annoyed, that I didn’t have any of them.
The night after, I was gathered around a large campfire, surrounded by soldiers, men who were imbued with duty, drenched in sweat, blood, and whatever else made its way onto their glistening sets of armor. I couldn’t understand much, but one of the commanders by my side whispered “...and tomorrow, we march on Carthage….!” I looked at him blankly, and then he got up and shouted the same thing. Everyone cheered at the top of their lungs, while I was handed something that resembled a sheep’s horn, filled with a liquid that was a luscious amber in color. I drank out of it, and suddenly became very brave. I was shouting along with them, and suddenly, everyone lifted me up in excitement. The shouting and merriment continued, until one of my fellow commanders stood up and motioned at the fire. Somehow, the crowd became even louder. With a show of strength, the burly Romans who had carried me around the crowd twisted their hips, readied their shoulders, and threw me into the fire.
The next night, I find myself unharmed, going up and down along the shore of an unnamed coastal town. It is a stunning day, one where the water is at its most blue, with a sea breeze that gently dances on your face. I walk along the water until I notice a cave, and as is usually the case, I let my curiosity get the best of me. The smell of something delicious is guiding me- there is an absolutely delectable odor in the air, and I venture further and further into the cave until I come across a small campfire. There, a half dozen men are crowded around, operating a crude spit where their dinner is cooking. Behind them, a colossal, nearly endless sea of gold, jewels, and chests sit comfortably against the walls of the cave. As I make my way towards the fire, the men turn around, and collectively shoot me a piercing gaze. I take another step forward, and suddenly, the men transform. Their bodies twist and turn, their clothes melt away, and in their place grew claws, pointed teeth, and exquisite, opulent fur. One took the form of a lion, while the rest turned into tigers, leopards, jaguars, and cheetahs. They all leapt towards me at the same time, without hesitation. Against all odds, I did not move an inch, simply accepting my fate.
They all stopped within an inch of my person, save for the jaguar, who kept sprinting, and was so clueless as to what was happening that he bit my hand. I cried out in pain, and the lion turned to him, knocked him on the head with his paw, and spoke out “Sorry, we’re still training him, actually.” I was stunned by pretty much everything, but somehow, the talking lion didn’t really phase me. He motioned to the stash of riches behind them, and I nodded. I took a single sack of gold coins, and the lion seemed pleased. He gave a signal, and without missing a beat, the rest of them turned back into portly, stocky men in discolored rags. They became very friendly after turning back, although the lion stayed in his commanding form. “Come back sometime, but be weary of when you need, and when you simply want.”
The following night, I found myself on horseback. In fact, I rode through lush mountains with the very same men who threw me into the fire, and we were laughing. Nothing in particular was that funny, but one of the legionnaires made a completely absurd face, a bewildered look and a wink, and we burst out in hysterics.
Near the top of the mountain, one of the men spotted a small house, a rustic wooden shack that was covered in a vast array of flowers. I was ordered to go in, to see that there were no enemies inside. I announced our arrival, pound at the door, and waited. After a few moments, the door slowly creaks open. Inside, a woman so beautiful that her mere presence caused silence among the troops looked at me. She is otherworldly, nearly literally so- there is a golden light surrounding her, and I rub my eyes with my leather gloves to make sure I’m not hallucinating. “Thank you very much for visiting me on your way down the mountain. You’ve done well to make it this far. You can take a short rest, if you’d like.”
Still in awe of her presence, I nodded my head incredibly slowly. She smiled, and stepped forward. At this point, I was quaking in my handcrafted artisan Roman boots. The woman embraces me, and the warmth she radiates once again feels unlike anything I’ve felt before. It was as if one were to hug the sun, becoming completely enveloped in its rays. My hands found their way across her shoulders, and my fingers became entangled in her auburn hair. It was the softest thing I had ever felt. The embrace went on for a few more moments, and then at the same time, we both let go.
As I began to walk back to my horse, she stopped me, and lifted up a finger, as if to signal that I must wait for just one moment. She came back with a small wreath of flowers, the same ones that grew all along her isolated, wooden abode. She put them around my neck, and smiled. I thanked her, and she nodded, then closed the door. The rest of the men stayed silent, until we met up with a larger cavalry at the base of the mountain, later that evening.
As I woke up from this night’s surreal episode, I felt a little more like myself. The haze was starting to lift, and the once incredible aches in my body began to subside. I wasn’t fully out of the woods, but I could tell I turned a corner. I went outside for the first time in days, a short walk to Washington Square Park, where I sat down and bathed in the rays of a surprisingly sunny day. The warm scent of focaccia being baked around the corner gently nudged me, and the crazy fever began to unravel itself, one tiny cough at a time.
The last dream, as if some sort of bookend to the particular insanity that was plaguing me every night, was exceptionally brisk. After coming back from the many conquests our legion had along the edges of the Roman Empire, I returned to what must have been my shoddy old cottage in the countryside. Outside, a messenger waited, a fairly impatient look on his face. He was dressed in fairly nice regalia, perhaps from his own campaigns across the Empire. He announced that my presence was to be found immediately within the gardens of one of the nicest villas in the city. I laughed, but the messenger looked dead serious. He said I was to get on my horse and IMMEDIATELY make my way to the villa. And so I did.
Riding into the city, it seemed more festive than usual. People were out and about, with smiling faces, donned in their most beautiful clothes. As I approached the villa, a group of schoolchildren were hanging out near the entrance. Upon seeing me, they began throwing seeds at me, then running off and laughing. I only knew what they were flinging at me because one of them kept shouting “Flax! Flax” as they hurried off.
Inside, the villa was imbued with stunning, intricate frescoes. They depicted scenes of battle, but also giant portraits of various animals; lovingly crafted tributes to foxes, oxen, wolves, and lions. As I stepped into the garden, I was met with cheers. It wasn’t people from Rome but from my real life- some of my closest friends were gathered around an enormous wooden slab of a table. They were all so happy to see me- it filled my heart in a way only your chosen family can.
As I sat down with them, an entire roast pig made its way from the kitchen to the table. We ate it, in an almost cartoonish fashion, with nothing left on the table but the bones of the pig. As we finished, everyone looked at each other, and without saying a word, got up, and began to take their clothes off. I did not question it, and did the same. Naked, we began running through the villa, hollering like a madman was chasing us. Nothing was wrong of course, we were simply happy to be alive and sprinting across old terrazzo floors. Going from room to room, not slowing down even for a second, our group finally made it down to the lower level of the villa, which was nearly empty, save for an outdoor pool. It was massive, and its water was a deep, hypnotizing blue. We all jumped in, and as soon I hit the water, I woke up.
What…what did all this mean? To be completely honest, I’m not sure. I was ready to call a psychiatrist (or perhaps a psychic) if these dreams persisted past the one week mark, but after a few nights, they stopped entirely. I was deeply relieved, but there is a small part of me that wonders if they’ll ever come back.
After the dreams, my sickness naturally went away in the coming days. I started to fully feel like myself again, but I noticed I was a bit more awestruck at the world. I take out my phone to take pictures of the sunset more often. When I sit down at my favorite spot at Vesuvio, by the window, with the stained glass chandelier, I audibly burst out “how lucky are we!” When I see my friends, fully clothed, but just as radiant as they were when we ran around an opulent villa, I feel full.
