Sick day

I called in sick to work Friday, my first sick day at the new job. (Can I still call it the new job when I have been there a year?)

I think I was mostly tired and off-kilter, rather than contagious sick. I took a three-hour nap Thursday and then slept till noon Friday.

I was feeling slightly guilty until I started recalling my dreams from Thursday night. I don't think I was feverish and I don't take illegal drugs, but something was definitely wrong.

I dreamed that:

• my journalism grad school class was in Afghanistan, but it wasn't the class as I knew them. It was the class as I imagined them to have aged.
• we ran into Osama bin Laden and he had a stereotypical posse with him -- a fat goofy guy, a lady's man, an older wise man, etc.
• at this point it became like a chase comedy, with us trying to avoid Osama and Osama trying to avoid officials.
• I tried to shoot Osama's one-person helicopter with a rifle, and the bullet went about 20 feet.
• the subway system was involved, too, though I a not sure how I got home.
• and much more including chamber pots, Johnny West, Ipads, Kerri Walsh Jennings and much more.

I think it was a good idea to stay home.