In My Dreams

I had a nightmare the other night. It was right out of a zombie apocalypse movie.

Image: ioshmagazine.com

I was surrounded by people who wouldn't respect the two-metre distancing measures. I tried to protect my family but then DW and my kids would get too close to others, risking exposure to what I call COVIDy people. I had to run away from my family as well.

It was awful.

The very next night, I had a dream that also reflected this coronavirus pandemic. I don't remember the specifics of the dream other than that the government had declared curfews because idiots were flouting the social-distancing rule. The military was now patrolling the streets: law-breakers were shot.

I had no sympathy for those scofflaws. (Is that bad? Who cares?)

In a third dream, I seemed to be living life as I had before the pandemic brought restrictions on our movement, though I knew that there was still a risk, that the virus hadn't been beaten, but I had to be careful. I encountered friends who I dearly miss, but was reluctant to hug them.

Are my dreams prophetic?

I have noticed that my anxiety has vastly increased over the past week or so. I really don't like going into stores. I get stressed every time I have to put on latex gloves, be it to pick up groceries or to fill up my gas tank (thankfully, that's only happened once, with each vehicle). I know that eventually, we'll run out of these gloves and we will have to try and forage for more. Same with our disinfectant wipes: the other day, we used the last sheet out of one of our containers. 

When DW and I go for walks, I insist that we stick to the roads and not the paths that run through our neighbourhood. Roads are wide: paths are narrow. God forbid, we encounter another person walking toward us. I grumble when DW and I move off a path when a person we encounter, and that person maintains his or her course, not making any attempts to provide further distance.

"Oh, you fucking own the path, do you?" I murmur, though only DW hears it.

"Ross!" she whispers back in an admonishing tone. DW is worried about me, about my dreams, about my fear of being anywhere near strangers. She fears that I'm going to snap, and curse directly at others who I feel don't respect personal spaces.

Yes, we have a recommended two-metre distance that we must respect. But for me, I get anxious if anyone is within five metres of me. A 10-metre restriction would be better.

Yes, my dreams are getting wierder and wierder. But sometimes, they beat the reality.

How are you holding up?