I couldn’t feel anything. Which was good.

Is this my life now? I would think it was a dream if not for the recent insomnia. It wouldn’t be a good dream or a bad dream, just a dream.

Colombian flags are draped everywhere and a brass band plays across the square, where the military is having a graduation ceremony and the proud parents jostle for position with the curious people leaving the supermarket 20 feet away. People sing, clap, and wave more flags than I have seen in one place, though all of the yellow, red and blue decorations in the neighborhood might be clouding my judgment.

I can’t feel anything, which is good. I have control of myself and understand that I am walking, but I am weightless and never feel my feet hit the ground. Instead of watching the graduation, I feel like I’m watching myself watch the ceremony. If I could have this on lazy days it would be perfect, but on busy days like today it’s a roadblock. I just arrived here and start an intense course in a week; I can’t have a seizure now. But I can’t feel anything. Which is good.

I had a headache for two days and spent all of last night trying to keep my self alternately warm and cool as my fever progressed. I gave up on sleep at 6:00 a.m. and decided to watch TV, a mindless and relaxing exercise for someone whose head is spinning out of control. When the subtitles rearranged to form different words and I couldn’t tell Jerry’s face from Kramer’s I knew it was time to turn it off.

My head was racing, trying to adjust to the cold and elevation of Bogota, living in Spanish again after two years away from it, and trying to remember all of the brilliant ideas I thought of as I shivered in bed for 10 hours last night. The harder I tried to remember, the more nervous I became about a seizure.

When my sneeze brought up blood instead of mucus, I decided to relax. I ate a heaping bowl of granola, then stared out the window as fog crawled over the Andes on the city’s edge. I couldn’t feel anything. Which was good.

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