Day 10: 11 Aug 2010
I can't tell you much about what actually happened today, because I was only conscious for minutes at a time.I have the feeling, though, that very little happened in that room -- apart from my few brief bouts of wakefulness, anyway.
I opened my eyes once in the day to find Kevin near me, fussing over an IV stand. The needle was in my right arm.
"Don't squirm. Hate to open a vein, but I gotta keep you hydrated," he said.
"Drowsy," I mumbled.
"Yeah. . . that's the drugs. Sorry."
"You say 'yeah' a lot. Almost every time you start a sentence," I said without thinking.
"Uh. . . yeah. Guess I do. G'night."
Kevin squished the IV bag a few times with his hands, and I noticed just before my eyes closed that his fingers didn't seem to work. Prosthetics, I realized. He was missing both of his hands.
* * *
When I woke up again, it was dark, and I was alone. I looked around for a few minutes, but the room hadn't changed at all since last I saw it. I heard a beeping -- four quick tones. A few seconds later, I was asleep again.
* * *
I can't tell you what happened today, but I can tell you what I dreamed. I don't often recall my dreams, but these were different -- or should I say this one was different, as it was the same every time. The same short dream, repeated over and over, broken up by brief moments of nothing, as if a black title card appeared in its place.
In the dream, I'm at work, but not in my office. I'm out on the docks. It's the middle of the day, but I'm the only person there. There aren't even any boats in the slips -- it's just me, the bright sun, the clean white concrete, and the broad Atlantic Ocean.
As I stand there staring off into the sea, I take off my sunglasses and throw them to the ground beside me. The sun almost blinds me. Instead of looking away, I look directly into the sun -- as I stare, it starts to fade. No clouds -- the sun actually gets dimmer.
I smile and look back at the sea. The chop isn't heavy, but as I look, the waves still completely -- the sea becomes as glass. I smile again -- none of this seems odd to me in the dream. Of course the sun and the sea should listen to me when I talk to them.
Of course, I haven't spoken out loud. But they know how to listen.
I take off my clothes -- all of them -- and start to walk. I'm heading for the end of the dock where the concrete becomes the sea, but I'm completely relaxed. My feet leave the pavement. I fall into the ocean without a splash and sink hard and fast, much deeper than the water should actually be in that area.
There's no fear, and I don't have any problem breathing -- the water fills my lungs like humid Florida air, thick and calming.
My feet hit the ocean floor, and my eyes snap open. I laugh, and the sound carries underwater.
Then, black. No sound. Nothing. That's where the dream ends, and I know I will be right back on the dock staring at the sun soon.