Two nights ago, I developed a searing headache while I slept. I could tell my vertebrae had slipped so that my head had fallen off my neck, and I tried every self-healing technique I know to ease the pain and put the darn thing back on again. I'd manage it somewhat, and fall asleep. I'd wake up again in as much or more misery; I just couldn't get my head back on top of my neck.
Even worse, everytime I'd fall asleep, I'd go back into the same dream: Me at my own beheading.
The whole of everyone I know was there, in a big old church, afternoon sun piercing the twighlight of the inner space. I didn't recognize the woman presiding, nor the executioner. Before the "ceremony" began, the executioner removed her golden mask and began to explain some of what we were there for.
Xena had brought the children; no amount of persuading would convince her she should take them away. Everyone seemed very at peace about the whole thing, and while I was nervous about my impending doom, I wasn't trying to get away. I was mingling with people, exchanging small dialogues about how I felt, I was exploring some of the unused rooms of the church, I was listening to the executioner explain the history of her noble profession.
The overall mood was sober, with an undercurrent of a bon voyage party.
No matter how I tried, I couldn't get lucid control of this dream.
I saw my chiropractor, got my head put back on, and two days later I'm still distressed enough that I've drawn a picture of the axe and told you all the story.