wrung

i went to bed asymptomatic at 3am. i woke at 5 with hellacious food poisoning. i can only assume it's food poisoning because i don't have a fever. i was up for over an hour being horrified by how disgusting my body can be. i called in sick to work. went back to sleep. woke at 1130, still ill. and STARVING. i ate gingerly whilst reading the sunday paper. the day outside was brilliant and sunny, a perfect fall sunday. so i fell asleep on the couch until it was dark again.
i hate sleeping the day away. i am still bleary and residually nasty-feeling, but i blame that more on being completely detached from the rest of the world's day. the moon is full. it's very pretty.
i had a very vivid dream that i was spontaneously driving to reno. i stopped at a garage-sale thing en route; a preacher-sort was lecturing a group of people about the merits of phish. i purchased a phish windchime. (this is actually the sort of fucking crap i dream about.) as i was leaving a dog approached me. "he needs a home" the man said. a bedraggled female nearby said "oh! he loves you! you have to name him 'church!'" i agreed to take the dog. the man started packing him into a metal barrel, surrounding him with something akin to aquarium gravel. "will he be able to breathe?" i ask, horrified. "oh yeah" the man says offhandedly. "we pack all our dogs this way." the dog is staring at me, confused, as the man lowers the lid.
i am driving a red sports car. i start out across the desert. it is dark when i get to reno- in the dream, it is a blip of obnoxious lights surrounded by black ether. (i cannot recall how it looked when i was there to be married, other than many shades of brown.) i pull into a fancy hotel parking garage like i belong there; i deeply want to find a pool or sauna. the hotel, in the dream, is the one t and i stayed in when we were married. the halls are decked out in the most garish of 80s cliches: fake grey marble, light sconces in shades of magenta and teal- like a very tacky mall. i enter the 'health spa' room on a random floor with no trouble- the amenities consist of a 7' square sunken whirlpool and a potted fern. and then i remember the dog, encased in a barrel in the back of the car. i return to the car; he is unaffected. we walk down the dark alley behind the hotel, under the buzzing floodlight affixed to an adjacent warehouse. the stars are still visible; the air is soft and warm. and i'm feeling panicked- why the fuck did i adopt this dog? i want to go home. why the fuck am i in reno? how could i have ever come up with this idea, much less imagined it to be a good one?
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when i woke i felt slightly frantic. the room was dim. i looked out the window, at the sunset reflecting off the windows of capitol hill. "fuck" i said aloud. i felt incredibly, scarily lonely at that moment.
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on a happier note: my passport arrived yesterday. it is safely contained in a drawer in my kitchen... until my lair burns down, that is.
i have really bad feelings about going to hawaii. i don't want to. i don't want to go with him. i tell myself to relax- i can fly over there and do my own thing, stay by myself, we never have to see each other- this is an awesome opportunity regardless, right?
depression, if you will, has hit me hard in the last week. everything is suddenly dark and cold and routine. the things that i feel would 'fix' everything are beyond my control... and 'fixing' is its own fucking fallacy.