Dreamt I had blood cancer but my GP hadn’t informed me of the diagnosis and I only found out because a big box of chemo drugs arrived in the post that I had to self administer.

I wanted to get an actual in-person diagnosis before I started the chemo so I spent ages trying to get an appointment with a doctor, and before long I realised I’d been waiting weeks and weeks to start the chemo. I noticed myself getting more tired as the disease progressed.

A haematologist looked at a sample of my blood down the microscope and described the neutrophils as looking like they were full of dozens of tiny glass marbles.

I am a floating being. My purpose is floating. I do so with unmatched grace and joy. Each movement of my surfaces parts the air in carefully measured but playfully chaotic patterns. The endless possible shapes of my movements are my canvas, and my existence is rich with the stories I paint in the air. I do not see, only feel my movements in the thick aether and hear the parting of molecules before me.

I am lost in the purity of my existence. But eventually I am drawn, perhaps by my autonomy or perhaps by benevolent forces, to lower airspheres and calmer winds. I find myself settling slowly upon a different material – a groudnedness in contrast to the usual lightness that has been the backdrop to my entire existence. I gradually become aware of where my body meets resistances unfamiliar to me, and my senses twist and form into shapes more concrete and angular than I have ever felt. I am, for the first time, in reflective sentience, rather than pure existence. 

I open my eyes and find I am lying on my bed in a ray of sun, waking from my daydream. 

I realise I have done this before and will do this again, for all eternity. 

Still, I wait for my return to the air with childish apprehension and hope.

An old married couple on the train. The husband encourages the wife to use the toilet after him. She is reluctant – it seems she is unwilling to use train toilets. Upon his return from the toilet he convinces her it’s ‘an easy one’ – a statement rich with history. She gives in and goes up to use the toilet – and returns upset: “No water!!” she exclaims. The husband is incredulous. “It was working fine!” … “Well it didn’t work for me… it never works for me.” She recounted putting soap on her hands then trying ‘twice’ to activate the motion sensor tap, and failing. “It must be something I do…” Both are upset. She holds paper towel around her dry, soapy hands as if cradling a wound.

I’d like to start by offering my warmest hug, and most sincere condolences.

What you went through back there, in your last lifetime, was truly horrendous.

I know my brightest and most glorious love could never make up for the true torment you were subjected to back there.

I can also appreciate how disoriented and shaken you must be now. The months of imprisonment, torture, insanity… I know you are tired and weak, believe me.

But I can promise you with absolute conviction, that your suffering is over now! You are safe here. Safer than you have ever been.

And I have great news for you! Now that you’re a bit calmer, I can disclose to you… your suffering was not for nothing! In fact, far from it!

Something beautiful has been borne of your suffering. The word beautiful does not begin to scratch the surface of the profound transcendental and total wonders that resulted from your trials. And you can imagine that, considering the unfathomable depths of your pain, the glorious heights of this accompanying marvel must be truly divine.