Another thing I don't particularly care for about being sick is the weeeeeird dreams, like the one I just woke up from where Ferris Bueller was going around on the last day of high school telling everyone how they'd turned out 30 years later and no one could decide whether it was time-travel or a cruel prank. Kind of mulling over now whether the general premise has been mined-out or if playing the situation for horror might be a fresh enough twist to think about writing something like that up... although I suspect that the research might involve having to watch Hot Tub Time Machine, which, Idunno.
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