Staggered

I have never done anything but adore Alan Rickman.

Last night --- well, this morning, really --- at 2:06 AM, I woke up so sick that I could barely lift my head off my pillow.  I was freezing, my head was pounding, my temperature was almost 103 degrees.  I had to get up to take some Advil.  When I got back to bed and to sleep, I had a dream about Rickman.

 

I was taking a class from him, and after one session, I approached him to ask a question.  He invited me to walk with him back to his office, where we could discuss in comfort.  Not too very long after our discussion began, he was called away.  He excused himself, and said he'd be right back.  But, he didn't come back, and that's when I woke up.

And, awake, I found out he is gone, and not coming back.