Aside from intentional intoxication—alcohol, marijuana, or the like—there is nothing so destabilizing as a fever dream.
Normally, there’s a dividing line between dreams and consciousness—the oddity of a dream shatters on waking, shards suddenly incomprehensible, impossible to consider real.
Not so with fever dreams.
When the brains runs hot, I suppose the capacity to crack the illusion of a dream vanishes.
It’s the only way I can explain why I tried—so hard!—explaining to my wife that we were a royal family in possession of radioactive crown jewels that we had to get rid of. Because, of course, they were causing my fever…
Taylor Coe 