I had dreams at the hospital.
Dreams from my coma time that I still remember well. Dreams from stages when I was mostly unconscious, but people at my bedside were in those dreams.
There were too many dreams to share at once, and they were too hard to explain…the whole Mexican-map-romance-burrito thing for example.
But the dreams were how my mind coped. So many things that I dreamed about happened in real life…just in different ways. They’re hard to understand, hard to explain in a way that would make total sense.
Sometimes things feel like too much. Maybe my dreams are better now, not so disjointed. I can get swept away.
Then I feel little arms around my neck, and I feel a hand in my hair, and I hear the many sounds of laughter that keep me in the here and now.
The very things that give me reason to be at all.