Theater of the Mind

I had a dream a while back where I suddenly realized that my hand hurt. I peeled off my climbing glove and looked at my hand, which was gangrenous from frostbite, black and swollen and vile. Apparently I was somewhere high up on K-2 and my hand had frozen and then thawed, as hands are wont to do high up on K-2, I guess. So I poked at my hand and the meat and tendons sloughed off while the wind blasted powder off the summit a few thousand feet above me...

I woke up in a panic and found that I had rolled over on my hand and cut off its blood flow. What a wonderful thing the brain is! My brain could have simply commanded me to roll over again, thus freeing my trapped hand, but no. It availed itself of the opportunity to climb K-2, if only for a few minutes. If only I could tap that creative energy when I'm awake!