Sick

I met up with Harold and other high school batchmates trying to promote indie releases of their songs. We walked around Session Road and finally ended up at an ice cream parlor at the corner of Assumption Road. There we met up with Vince for ice cream and laughs. When I got home (Campo Sioco), I spent my time playing with the dogs before hitting the sack.

The next morning, I got up and I walked over to Ma and found Scottie really sick. Apparently, he had gotten a weird virus which was weakening his immune system and caused him to rapidly rot from within. A few minutes later, he was gone, the virus had eaten him from inside. And, when I asked Ma where he had gotten it, she answered "...from you.."!

What? Where'd I get it? was I infected? Who else was?

Ten and I were both infected, we just stayed home and rested, hoping to make it through the day. The virus also had the effect of speeding up the development of pests. And with my weak immune system, my skin became a playground for bugs and worms.

It was already late in the afternoon, I was feeling so weak. I looked at myself in the mirror for the first time today, and saw that boils had taken over my face. I could hear the flies buzzing in my skin. There was a whole lot of activity under there.

Then I woke up.

That was one friggin' bad dream. Did it mean anything?