The dream and the dreamer

– Hey.
– Ah. Hello.
– Still dreaming?
– Dreaming? Yes. Still dreaming.
– What’s it like this time?
– What, this hospital? Faceless doctors that don’t speak.
– Oh?
– They all have lovely hair.
– What else?
– You can’t be serious.
– No tell me about it. Really. Honestly.
– All-right. Well, the days go on and on without night, as far as I can guess, probably four or so days consecutive.
– What as in, four instances of twenty four hours?
– No probably more like four instances of twelve hours, so two full days but without night.
– Hm.
– Then a very short night, perhaps five hours. Perhaps six.
– That is strange.
– I don’t mind it. It’s different.
– What do you think it means?
– I have no idea. Night is when I’m most awake, usually I sleep during the day and the doctors never wake me. They only appear when I wake, and it’s always daylight out.
– I imagine that would have been a little disorienting the first time?
– No not really, I’m used to these things by now.
– You seem to be quite calm.
– I am calm.
– Why?
– Well, at my pleasure I get to wander around this hospital. It’s totally empty, but there are sounds in every room. I like entering each one and listening. Snoring, laughter, banal conversations about trivial things. There’s some crying, and some moaning in pain. Those that have difficulty breathing are the most saddening, but I stay there the longest.
– Anything else?
– Sorry?
– That doesn’t really explain why you’re calm.
– Well you’ve started visiting again.
– Again?
– Your presence is very calming.
– It’s kind of you to say so.
– What do you think?
– What, of this place? Well, I have to shade my eyes when I look out of any north facing windows, and I must say that the sunlight in the hospital is quite surreal. It’s almost… beautiful.
– It is beautiful.
– You do know it’s all an illusion though? Right? Even me?
– Of-course. But what I can’t figure out just yet is whose illusion it is.
– Oh?
– Yours or mine.