5 day writing assignment - Day 2 - rising

Day 1   Day 2

I filled a sock with dry rice, tied the open end in a tight knot and stuck it in the oven. The kernels of rice heat up after a minute or so. If I leave it too long, the heat is too much and I cannot lie my head down on the sock or more specifically, my ear. I actually need two socks, a pair to work on relieving the pain of the infection, but I found only one, so the solution is to alternate. I felt pretty good when I woke up, all things considered. The night started with the fear of not being able to sleep. As soon as I lay down on the bed, the throbbing intensified and sleep, I was sure, would not come. It did, and brought with it more dreams. I was walking along a river again, another river I did not know, and was waiting for a boat to come and take me away. There were things in the water, floating. They looked like boxes to me, or chests, and in each one a sign for a different destination. I don’t know I knew but I did. In the dream I was going to Brazil. There were others there, walking on the dirt road by the river, but they did not speak to me. I was simply waiting. There were other dreams, talking ones but I cannot remember their words now.

Noon passed quickly and I felt well enough to go to the garden for awhile. Then the fever returned. I have never spent a lot of time thinking about where the fever comes from, why two days ago I felt perfectly healthy, and then by the end of Friday, did not at all, and today find myself feeling even worse. It isn’t worth perhaps tracing back my actions, who I had come in contact with. The scientist inside me is protesting loudly. Now, it is too painful to eat. I am not hungry. I tried to eat some dinner, but the white fire bore through my jaw and skull. There is no where to go, to get away from this. Nothing to do except submit to it.

A bowl of noodles are cooling on the other side of me. I should try to drink the broth at least. I will not fade away without them, but if I am to be strong enough, I need to. The fever is climbing. I can feel my cheeks growing hotter, and if I looked into a mirror now I would find a face flushed and red. My head feels heavier than it looks. My neck is as swollen as it was when I lived in Africa and contracted malaria. Thick and unyielding. I cannot think about what to say. The only thought when I close my eyes to invite it is that the breeze tonight feels cool against my skin. The sky is already dotted with stars. I can see them from where I am lying, through the window. I wonder – do they feel the same wind? Does it touch them as they look down on me? If they do, I hope it feels as delicious to them as it does to me.

I will ask them tonight, perhaps, in dreams.