By now I’m sure most of us have had the Covid dreams, as I have. The ones where I am going about my usual activities and suddenly I realize I’m not wearing a mask. I freak out, like I used to do in dreams when I realized I was in class naked, or wearing only underwear at work. Now it’s mask and distancing anxiety manifesting at night in dreams.

But I also have Covid daydreams. I wonder how many of us do. Each time I enter the parking garage at work I can almost see the covid zombie jumping out at me from between two parked cars. I clean my hands, phone and ID tag as fast as possible, change my shoes and hop in the car quickly, always sensing some horror just outside my peripheral vision.

Then there is the one about one of my closest friends getting sick, and I can see myself kneeling by the bedside as they struggle to breathe, me in PPE and alone as no other visitors are allowed. It’s devastating and frightening, and I’ve been seeing this vision since about a month before the pandemic set in.

Dreams and daydreams used to be safe spaces to let imagination roam; this beastly virus has taken that soothing place from me and likely from many others. If only sleep would give peace, if only my waking meanderings of thought were pleasant.

Let’s hope once this thing ends that I return to flying over landscapes and adventuring through time when I close my eyes.

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