I have just read on the BBC website an account of an unfortunate journalist who has had and still has long Covid. It is a dreadful illness at its worst, and I feel for him. One thing which caught my attention is what he describes as having “coma nightmares” when in an induced coma.
Although I am aware of dreaming most nights, I rarely remember much detail the following morning. However, when I was in hospital, though not with Covid, but in an induced coma, I had vivid dreams which I was convinced were real life.
I had a lot going on. I was involved in brokering and delivering fish quotas to the EU, and this involved several journeys to France and Belgium. We stayed in an apartment also, though I seem to remember that was in the Netherlands. Of course, I know very little about the fishing industry, but I was convinced I did.
Also, I was involved with two farms, one in Scotland and another in Northern Ireland. I had responsibility for making sure the cattle were well fed in Scotland and for mixing feed that they had when not out to pasture. At the farm we had a dog and some puppies, Border Collies I think, and one of our family took a puppy to the Northern Ireland farm.
As part of this story, we seemed to have a house in North Kent and another in Devon, and the Devon property was especially nice.
Separately I thought we had sold our house in Hockley, and had another locally, but we had also built a bakery in Rayleigh. Maybe that was where the new house was too.
There were visits to my paternal grandparents’ house in Billericay. My grandma was there, but not grandad, who passed on in 1964. I also saw a lot of my lovely Auntie, my Mum’s sister, and her husband and the rabbits that Auntie bred.
I did a lot of driving and had to go (I think) to Northampton several times. On one occasion I was pulled over by the police for speeding (this has never happened to me). I also visited some North London opticians several times to have new contact lenses (that at least was based on experience), but for some reason had to take a dog to the local vets there rather than nearer home.
Several times I was in hospital, not the real one, and was thirsty but could not reach the drinking bottle. I had some awareness of lying on my front, which was probably true as I was proned to help my breathing while I was on the ventilator.
These dreams or delusions, one might say, kept recurring and all seemed real. When I was finally conscious in hospital it took me a week or so to work out what was real and what was part of my unconscious imagination.