In hell, everyone will surely be doomed to have tonsillitis for all eternity. It’s the ultimate punishment for any and all sins committed in the earthly realm. No other punishment required. Just tonsillitis. It’s that bad.
With tonsillitis, it constantly feels like someone is very slowly twisting a very sharp knife into your tonsils, which - incidentally - are also swollen and covered in pus, as if the stabbing part wasn't bad enough. You can forget about eating solids too. And then there’s the fever. Good lord, the fever.
As you might’ve guessed from that introduction, I’ve been battling tonsillitis yet again this week. To describe it as a “nightmare” would actually be quite fitting, considering some of the crazy dreams I’ve been having.
After initially misdiagnosing myself with “man flu” on Saturday, the fever moved in for the kill on Sunday. I was mostly delirious, but lucid enough – at times – to fear missing work on Monday. Actually, looking back, that last sentence pretty much explains most of the crazier dreams.
One of the worst examples featured a game not unlike Dead Island, in which bashing enough zombie brains to level-up unlocked various Nokia offers, such as 2-for-1 mobiles. I’d been tasked with writing a feature about it, but struggled with all the different handsets, and specs, and operating systems. To make matters worse, some of the phones were old and some new, while others had simply been renumbered.
But that was ok. Not to worry. The dream delirium reassured me I could simply include a lighthearted disclaimer in my article, explaining that I was unwell and that any inaccuracies were a result of my fever.
Mental. But it gets better.
I woke up several times during this dream, and found myself panicking because I hadn’t been able to pin down all the specs. The waking me was convinced that the game was real, as was the accompanying assignment. But my waking delirium – this is the best bit – told me to relax and fall back asleep; I could easily confirm all the details if I just went back in.
What. The. Fu…? Honestly, it was like Mobot meets Inception.
In another fantastic example, my assistant (clearly I was dreaming) told me that a young kid was really keen to play me the “BlackBerry Rollercoaster Mix” of Merrily We Roll Along on the recorder. I’d like to see a dream analyst try to unravel that one. Perhaps I’m subconsciously concerned about RIM’s erratic performance, and not convinced by their repeated attempts to put a brave face on things.
And finally, I appear to have added the following to my HTC Desire HD's To-Do List: “new msg to the masses”. Evidently I was plotting world domination while delirious from fever. If only I’d taken a more detailed note, I bet I had some really great ideas. Bah.
Yeah, so, if my writing seems worse than usual this week, or if I start talking about dual-pixel mega-cores or Blacksung MotoBerry handsets, blame the tonsillitis.
Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for another hit of aspirin, paracetamol, 2,4-dicholorobenzyl alcohol, amylmetacresol, and phenoxymethylpenicillin. Delicious.