Breakfast in bed

This is my first bad cold in at least two years. I've been sleeping poorly. Last night I was exhausted, but couldn't get to sleep. At 1 a.m. I emailed my boss to say I was switching off my alarm in hopes of sleeping in. I finally got to sleep after 2.

Waking up this morning, I looked at the clock: 5:40, the time my alarm usually goes off. I rolled over, hugged into the warm covers and tried to doze.

Drifting in hypnagogia, I found myself resting on a daybed in the home of some absent friends. The rooms were long and narrow with many large windows between the rooms and facing the snowy outdoors. A cleaning lady came in and was surprised to find me. She was friendly, with curly white hair, and her name was probably Ruth. I explained what I was doing there, and told her I had emailed my boss.

"You shouldn't go to work today," she said. "I'll call and tell him."

She disappeared into the kitchen and soon returned with a breakfast tray of warm toast, coffee and corn grits with melted butter. Wheat gluten and caffeine are off limits, but that did not occur to me and I was delighted.

Then I woke up. This was the first dream I have remembered in maybe a year. I lay in bed until 8:30, never getting back to sleep, but the quietness felt good. Now I'm off to pick up another bottle of Advil on the way to work.