THAT DAY

Our band is going to Snoring Dog Studio today. But at the last minute I learn that due to Covid the studio's shut down for the next few weeks at least. Argh!

In other disease news...

My bandmate Mike got two ticks and bungled getting them out; their heads are still in his skin. Lyme is a real danger around here, so I urge him to see a doctor and demand as long an antibiotic regimen as he can get--the tests for Lyme are crap, and many insurance companies only spring for a week or so of antibiotics when you need a month to be safe. I suggest he take a gram of astragalus a day for a month as insurance; it's a good nonprescription substitute if his health plan underprescribes. And it probably will.

In other disease news...

A Trump health official who used to be a lobbyist for a drug manufacturer just approved a deal calling potential Covid-19 drug remdesivir an 'orphan drug', good only for a rare diseases and thus getting a special patent protection--for his old drug company! That protection's for rare diseases, not a pandemic like Covid. But, see, on the day they filed, there were still just under 200,000 official cases in the US--the legal threshold.

Now Trump's foot-dragging around Covid testing looks suspicious to me--was it on this crony's advice? If you limit testing, that keeps confirmed cases under 200,000 till the lawyers finish filing for patent protection. Endanger the public, make some money!

In other disease news...

As groceries run empty, Trump calls those of us who didn't stockpile food and supplies "whiners". For months I've tried not to hate him. But I'm too tired to have any charity left. I just want him dead.

THAT NIGHT

I'm on a long slow campaign to test and manipulate strange parasitic spirits that latch onto people, influence them... and sip their energy. Guardian angels? Vampires? Or something between--are we milk cows, are we pets?

I'm trying something new on these parasites that doesn't eject them but persuades them to keep their humans healthier. Luckier, too? I think these creatures can't create new possibilities, just as they can't totally control the humans they ride... but they can tilt the odds toward better outcomes.

Meanwhile--as I later learn--a powerful non-parasitic spirit--a high-order angel, in fact--detects the perturbations from my experiments and tracks me down. She assumes I'm manipulating spirits to manipulate their humans--to conquer the world.

She tracks me down in a park where I'm working on a client--or rather the client's attached spirit. She perches on a tree above me. Whoa. More Barbarella than Biblical. Not wings, rocket boots! And she points a great big blaster at me. Gulp!

But then, I have a zap gun too. Of course. In my line of work, I always carry one. Bullets don't stop spirits.

Standoff!

Disappointing that she sees me as power-mad, an enemy, not a healer and potential friend. I find HER rather admirable and very sexy.

I say "I'd rather talk than fight." She's surprised--didn't expect that of a Mad Scientist. But she lets me explain what I'm up to. I recently got positive results: two clear cases where serious, possibly fatal disease were averted.

In the end I say bluntly "This line of research is too promising. I'll go on with or without angelic approval."

Well... at least she's not pulling the trigger. We'll see...

At the end of the dream, I start to drift back toward my body, and start to wonder... are these ambiguous parasitic spirits just how I see our resident bacteria and viruses? Sometimes harmful, sometimes helpful, sometimes... trainable. If so, do my experiments mean my shamanic spirit's going out in dreams like this to negotiate with my friends' immune systems? Maybe...

And I wake full of speculation. That rather strange interpretation was part of the dream too. My dream's opinion of itself!

NOTES IN THE MORNING

• What triggered this dream of parasites? Mike and his embedded ticks, of course. Or Trump, that embedded tick in the body politic.
• The Barbarella angel: probably trained guilt. Oh, not for basically practicing medicine on my friends--not when the American health system's asleep at the switch! No, for wishing Trump dead--I should forgive, forgive, forgive, be Gandhi, Buddha, Christ... even as he worsens a plague, kills people. How many thousands? I don't know--what month is it?
• The two recent cases were two other friends I shamelessly nagged:
  1. Ursula had serious depression each winter--Seasonal Affective Disorder. I know from personal experience that SAD responds well to Vitamin D, and suggested supplement quite heavily for one winter. Her depression faded.
  2. Catshall had a crippling, inexplicable hip fracture AND recurring slow cancer, yet hadn't been tested for low Vitamin D--it took me 18 months of nagging her before she begged her doctor for a test. Catastrophically low! She started heavy supplementation; no more fractures or relapses.
• After-dream interpreting the main dream: I seemed lucid, but not conventionally. I just didn't care--I didn't want to experiment further, I wanted to know what the earlier dream meant. And my dream-self gave me its opinion! So now, awake, do I believe I'm a shaman going out in dreams to teach my friends' spirits how to treat their bodies better? I just don't know. Given how accurate my other self-interpreting dreams have been, I can't quite rule it out.
• ACTION 1: Oh, go ahead, draw the Barbarella angel with the blaster. You know you want to.
• ACTION 2: Don't assassinate Trump. But do keep nagging my friends to do the friggin' obvious to stay alive in a shoddy, Trump-infected world.

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