Dealing With Headaches

Yesterday, I got hammered by a migraine. I dreamt I was in a small concert hall waiting for a Peter Gabriel concert to begin. It was a special concert — just him and a grand piano. And then, I began feeling really sick. I had a throbbing migraine and — surprise, surprise — woke up with it. I realized I had to leave the arena.

Now, other aspects in the dream I wouldn’t have minded waking up with. It would have neen nice to wake up with Peter Gabriel or even the grand piano. I wouldn’t have minded so much if I woke with Peter Gabriel, the grand piano and the migraine. But no, out of all of the elements in the dream, the only thing I woke up with was the damn migraine.

No Refuge In Sleep

Sometimes, when I feel a headache or a migraine come on, I can lie down and take a little nap, wake up and the migraine has been thwarted. I can’t really do that in my dreams because I’m already in bed. I do have chronic morning headache where I always wake up with some kind of head pain, but it usually goes away halfway my first cup of tea.

When I woke up yesterday, the migraine made it known loud and clear that it wasn’t going anywhere. I lay in bed for another hour because it hurt too much to move — even though all I had to do was take some painkillers with milk and that would take the edge off. I did hope that I would fall asleep and go back to the same dream and get to see at least part of the concert. Peter Gabriel concerts are not as rare as the release of a Peter Gabriel album, but they are rare enough and so if a dream concert was all I could get, I was going to grab it.

Drink Up, Dreamers

I did manage to fall back asleep breifly and get back to the dream. Peter saw me about to leave the arena and grabbed my arm. Despite the pain, I decided to stay. The crowd was a bit hostile at having to wait and so Peter was using me as a shield to get to the stage and the piano. Then, there wasn’t any cushion on the piano bench, so I lay on it and he sat on me.

This all made sense at the time. Point was, the migraine still wasn’t going anywhere. I think Peter knew I needed to deal with the migraine, and not just because the crowd was very hostile. He eventually stood up, yanked me to my feet and said, “Come with me.” A spark of hope leaped in what is left of my bosom.

And suddenly I woke up in bed with the migraine. “Bastard!” I yelled. So much for Prince Charming. Although I have also had dreams where Peter has helped cure me of various aches and pains, he wasn’t going to do it this time. I had to crawl upstairs and get an ice pack, sunglasses and meds.

Such is the happy life of a migraineur.