Head lined with fuzz and edged in heat (fried like the edges of a sunny-side-up), I drifted off in uneasy stupor. I had to get well, somehow. I still hoped to be able to run on my Sunday's Jog for Hope.

And then we were running, for our lives, in a parking lot that morphed into open terrain. I scrambled faster than my girlfriends, away from the gang of sinister loiterers who'd suddenly started trailing us, smugly exchanging among themselves that it was "only 3 or 4 of them".

As one by one my friends faced captivity, frantically I looked about for a means of escape. "I" as the dreamer saw my dream self from above, as though in a figurine display. I watched as a car appeared out of nowhere and I got in without thinking, as all desperate people do. The no-gooders who were hot on my tail now pulled out guns, and while the distance widened slowly between us, their shots were spitting into the earth around me.

I saw the car start ascending a hill, atop which was raging inferno. It then occurred to me that if any of those bullets found their mark, the hilltop wouldn't be the only thing on fire.

That was right before I vaguely observed a single bullet arching towards my car; before it burst mercilessly into flames, and I with it.

A true dream, this evening while I was resting in attempt to recover from flu. No joint pains or nausea yet, so there's a good chance it's not H1N1 at all. But I did so want to run on Sunday... and does my dodgeball practice commence on this week's Friday? Oh man, I just want to be up and about again. Curse the unreasonable chill in my campus.