It felt as real as any of the things I’d experienced in my measles fever-delirium . . . and all those things had been real, just distorted by my overheated brain.
Then I remembered the blood-soaked sheet in the north bedroom, and the stuffed animal lying on its side in the middle of it. There was no sense of relief attached to the memory, that thank-God-it-was-only-a-dream feeling you get after a particularly nasty nightmare. It felt as real as any of the things I’d experienced in my measles fever-delirium . . . and all those things had been real, just distorted by my overheated brain.
