Dancing Under The Stars

You're head is swimming. You laugh excitedly. You can't remember the last time you've had so much fun; but that's the nature of the beast, isn't it? Good times flit by and laughter fades off like a match in the wind, never really making it far down the hallway of time. A waiter glides past, glasses of punch balanced on a silver tray.

It is a party. A soirée, to see off your beloved friend whats-his-name on his way to another year of college. The band is playing front and center on the emerald lawn, and the dance floor has just opened up to the dancers. There is a cry of excitement and a rush of feet: everyone is dancing! The moon is a blinding spot of light, looking grimly down on the proceedings. You smile up at him.

Everything breaks. A paradigm shift. Your vision seems to blur as a shotgun goes off in your head. Your smile fades to incomprehension. Suddenly the music snaps you back; a lively ditty on the piano. You shake your head and slide back among the dancers. Laughter comes back to your lips as you bump into a gorgeous blond. You look up to the heavens again, taking in the stars.

Then you're a thousand miles away from everything. The blond is speaking, but what she's saying is coming slow, garbled. Your forehead burns, throbs, as if under the unforgiving gaze of the desert sun. It feels like all your hair is being pulled from your scalp. After a moment you try to help it, finding some vague relief in the act. A dull, throbbing pain has filled your head - from the top middle down to your nose - like barrels of cotton in a dress factory.

This is my life when I have a migraine - as I do now. Not the soirée bit, mind you; but everything else. It drives sleep from you, makes you slow and dimwitted, and gives you a taste of what it would be like to actually have your head buried in the sand. Believe me, there's nothing quite like it. You begin fantasizing about having a tap on your brain to relieve some of the pressure with, or maybe just getting an elephant to step on you…

Not very cheery tonight, am I? Sorry, but there' nothing like having your IQ drop a good twenty points right as you get to work and then stay that way for the entirety of the day. Using this blog, though, I'm playing with seeing if writing helps. …And, so far, the answer is yes. It seems I can channel the pain away from my headache with it! Or, at least, distract myself enough that I don't notice it.

Such a break through might very well make me want to go dancing under the stars, but since it's so very late I think I'll have to settle with doing it in my dreams instead. Wow. it really is late. I go! Bon voyage!