Cold

For two weeks straight I have been battling some strange cold. It came first with fever headache, and general feeling of being not well. After five days it got better and I even went outside, the weather was so great it was shame to miss it. The photo on the left is from one of those sunny days. On the fourth day of my gradually feeling better I was hit by the second round of a cold, which culminated in me loosing my voice. Considering that the kids are at home on the spring break we have an interesting communication – I whisper and they, without even realizing it, whisper back. One of their friends came over for a sleepover and started to do the same. It reminded me of an old rule of the teachers - if you want to be heard, lower your voice. Funny as it sounds, it always worked well in the classroom.
During the first phase of my cold I read all six books of Harry Potter (we haven’t bought the seventh one yet), so my night dreams were filled with wizards, death eaters, dragons, and such. Then I add to this mix “The Lightening Thief”, which features the adventure of a young boy, who happens to be the son of Poseidon, and my dreams were inhabited by Greek gods and heroes. I never noticed before such direct connection between my readings and dreaming, perhaps I should use it to my advantage and try to manipulate my dreams.
One other book brought a beautiful surprise – a forgotten poem. It was a translation from Russian, which often disguise poems to the point of non recognition. This time the recognition was instant, no hesitation.

Insomnia. Homer. Taut sails.
I’ve read to the middle of the list of ships:
the strung-out flock, the steam of cranes
that once rose above Hellas.

Flight of cranes crossing strange borders,
leaders drenched with the foam of the gods,
where are you sailing? What would Troy be
to you, men of Achaea, without Helen?