THAT DAY

Achy neck, head. Worst I've been in a while. Lyme disease flaring up. I'm taking antibiotics and as it kills off Lyme spirochetes, they release toxins resembling botulin, so my joints hurt: the Herxheimer reaction.

THAT NIGHT

I'm trying to sleep on my pianobed, an instrument my friend Mike built for me long ago. A sort of mattress in a fat curvy L shape, like a grand piano.

I search for the controls and power; it's been a long time since I played it. Finally trace a wire round the edge a long way and find a black control box. Click it on, but... how to play a pianobed? Gotta relearn from scratch! Maybe if I thrash around like an uneasy sleeper?

And thus... thrash music is born!

NOTES IN THE MORNING

• Bed: Herxheimer reactions send some Lyme patients to the hospital, yet I haven't even been resting much. If health REALLY matters to me, REST! Just read in bed.
• Forget how piano works: I quit practicing piano this week because I ached. Do I want to forget how?
• ACTION: despite the pun, the dream is serious. If I want to play piano I have to practice, BUT to practice I mustn't overwork my sore shoulders and hands on computer or doing art. Focus on what really matters to me--play music and rest! I can't do it all---not with Lyme.

  And that's just as true for you readers who DON'T have Lyme. At least those of you with bodies.

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