Larium Delirium

So Monday nights may in fact be my favorite night of the week, But Tuesday nights for the past four months have been my favorite nights as far as sleep is concerned.
Each Tuesday night before bed (save last week) I’ve taken my larium faithfully (actually I was taking mefloquine, but larium just makes for a better name) to combat evil malaria dudes that may have been trying to enter my system. I’m pleased to say that I am malaria free thanks to my Tuesday night friend.
There’s always lots of controversy involved when you discuss taking an antimalarial, it can have some… odd… side effects. I remember one of my friends took it for the first time, went to McDonalds; ended up crying over the death of her Chicken McNuggets. Needless to say, she switched to a lower dose.
Other people I know have mentioned sleepless nights (Barb, are you getting any sleep?) hair loss, stomach cramps and moodiness.

I’m one of the lucky ones.
I sleep.
I sleep well.
And I dream crazy drug induced dreams.
A part of me is so sad that I don’t get to take it any more, but as if my brain was anticipating the larium rush, I still had some pretty strange dreams last Tuesday. Not over the top crazy dreams… but still pretty strange.

This entry is a tribute to my last larium delirium, a dream that I had two weeks ago. I’m still quite traumatized by it.

I was working for a princess. She was very nice, just the sort of princess one would WANT to be working for, if indeed one had to work for a princess. She wore many pretty dresses, one of my jobs was to pick out her clothes for her. She had a fluffy puppy (but I didn’t have to clean up after it) And she liked to party.
Not drunken party, she liked to go to elegant balls and social events; as fitting for one of her status. My main job was to go with her and be her aide at these functions… a lovely job. I got to meet all the other princesses (AND PRINCES!!!). I got to eat lovely shrimp cocktails. Really, it was a fairy tail job (quite fitting for a fairy tail dream). And anytime I spoke to anyone of great importance I had to hold their hand way in the air… because that’s what royalty expects (apparently?)
And then it happened.
One of the princesses turned to me, and in lifting my hand to the air I was left hanging… she glared at me and said in the snooty-est of all snooty voices “oh, You’re one of THOSE, your from the F.P.B.” Then she turned away. I was so upset! I turned to my princess and said “whatever does she mean?” but my princess had vanished. Instead, in her place were dozens of other princesses covering their faces with their fans, laughing and calling out “F.P.B” “she works for the F.P.B.” Finally I was able to corner someone and they gave me the news that I dreaded to hear.

F.P.B stood for “Fake Princess Brigade”.

I wasn’t working for a real princess.

How embarrassing.