I used to have a recurring fever dream about John McCain. Nothing scandalous, nor even political: I am inherently neither—we’d just chat at the gym. Pleasantries, weather, proper technique with moving heavy things around, and so on. Usually we’d get interrupted by a friend of mine who was a grad student at Princeton; I’d duck out after introducing them and get hit in the head by a squash-ball. Upwards of 10 times it has happened, but it’s always a surprise.
If the fever would break, I would wake up sweaty and that would make the dream seem extra weird. Was I going through the motions? Was there a workout? It would usually take a couple minutes to figure out how I got into bed.
I have been sick, though I have not had that dream. Yet.
Maybe I’ve been postponing it.
