Kenny

Somewhere over the last three months, I contracted malaria. I have no actual empirical evidence for this, but odds are on my side, and it makes for a good "hook," which according to English teachers from grades 7 - 12, is necessary. Accordingly, I am on a weekly malaria prophylaxsis known as "Mefloquin," branded "Lariam." Taken each Wednesday, this miracle drug doesn't so much as keep me from getting the cell-popping disease, as much as it keeps the protozoa from getting drunk enough on red blood cells and liver to actually engage in a Caligula-like orgy of self-reproduction at the expense of my internal environment.

A propos Mefloquin, from the most recent edition of the Health Handbook: "It is, however, a somewhat new drug, but is considered relatively safe. This does not mean that it is without side effects, but the alternative in Mauritania is the possibility of dying from Malaria." I say, what's a drug taken on a regular basis for two and a half years without side effects? A curative breath mint, that's what. Let's take a look at what they list:
*upset stomach
*headache
*abdominal pain
*nausea
*itching
*hair loss
*vivid dreams, nightmares
*blurry vision
*less acute sense of balance
I generally scoff at the first four; I don't think I've seen a drug ad that doesn't warn about these. As far as I'm aware, I'm not exceeding the average amount of itching, which I assume isn't that much in the first place. I've been afraid I've been losing my hair since I was 15. My vision remains fine, and I have yet to spontaneously fall down the stairs, which leaves us with one glaringly unformatted side effect.

I used to read volunteers' blogs while sitting at work with nothing better to do. I remember one in which a girl told a story about eating fried chicken in a convertable with Kenny Rogers. Much to my dismay, it was just her intro to an entry about Lariam dreams. Given the certifiable shit that goes on in people's heads while they're asleep, I found nothing particularly remarkable about her recollection. What I failed to either notice or appreciate was the level of detail in the story, and this is where I can begin to relate. Yeah, my dreams have been ratcheted up from mid- to high-weirdness, but one of the most striking effects of this drug is that not only can I give you a fully detailed narrative about the sugar plums dancing in my head last night, but I can cover each night for the last week and a half, at least.

So if that's one of the most noticable side effects, what's the other? Well, allow me to put it this way: if I had dreamed that me and Kenny were hangin' out, pounding chicken in a convertable, someone would have inevitably opened the passenger side door, grabbed a leg of the ol' honey barbecue, and tried to forcibly remove poor Kenny's face and vital organs with it.

This is why I've decided against actually relating any of my dreams. Almost all of them have an undercurrent of violence. Not all the time - probably five nights a week, on average. Anyway, before you go calling Mauritania's finest and having me strapped to a stretcher in a padded room, know that my experience has been corroborated. A good friend has had recurring dreams of her sister hanging by her lips from meathooks, and another married couple recently switched to the daily malaria prophylaxsis because the Lariam was giving them psychotic thoughts. Fortunately, my nighttime craziness has yet to transcend the boundry between dream and waking thought, so I think I'll be alright for now.

And Kyle, regarding Sunday night's dreamland adventures: if you get married anytime soon, don't invite Kenny to the wedding.