I'm now on the hunt for unicorns.
By now, you should know enough about me to be able to not call the local authorities, because I'm just weird all by myself.
So last night I woke from what I thought was a lucid dream. Creepy shivers and navy blue haze and a lone, barren tree far off in the distance. Sitting on a rock in the center was someone that I talk to a couple of times a week via a social site. We've never met, but have thrown fully-capitalized sentences back and forth just for fun.
He would trace single words into the blue haze surrounding him, and then his arm would fall, as if in defeat. He would try again. And his arm would, again, fall by his side. It was disheartening and very sad. The frustration and sense of loss filled me, and I couldn't shake it.
So what do I do? I tell him about it. Because I am totally lame.
He tells me that he's fine, really, and he hasn't drawn words in blue fog for at least 7 months.
I tell him that I'm so glad he's moved on from that phase.
He tells me he's moved on to red fogs and whole sentences.
I tell him how proud I am of his growth, and to let me know if he starts seeing unicorns.
He says, "Or should maybe... you... let me know if you see unicorns?"
I was able to shake this "vision", because after all, he was okay, and not only that, I was getting hugged and kissed by one of my patients as she was being discharged from the hospital.
She and her husband have been married for almost 60 years. They were incredibly cute to each other. He told me how they met (which I won't disclose here based on patient privacy), and that he still loves her now as much as he did back then.
I'm sappy. What can I say?
I think love is an incredible thing.