Dream: Sons of Mozart

I dreamed that me and my twin brother were the youngest direct decedents of Mozart. Our father was a very well-off composer who was well known for several famous and near-genius compositions he wrote as a young man. He had not written anything since that time. When asked by the public, he claimed to have a work of utter and unspeakable genius in the works which has taken all this time. He even told this to us, his children. My brother and I have always suspected it to be a lie. We suspected that he had lost his gift.

Growing up, our father taught us the art of music. he taught us the mechanics, the subtleties, and the art. He exposed us to the world's best musicians and composers. After all, the children of the "Next Mozart" should be musical. But we were absolutely forbidden to write music ourselves.
"You're too young," he would say. "You're not ready. You wouldn't' want to write anything you're not proud of. You wouldn't want to disgrace the family name, would you?"

This, despite the fact that he wrote his first symphony when he was twelve, and W.A. Mozart himself when he was only eight. My twin and I were eleven years old. We had been writing music in secret since we were old enough to hold a pen. We wrote duets, mostly, which is understandable. But we also wrote chamber music -quartets and quintets. We performed them ourselves in secret, only able to hear two of the instruments at a time.

Our father had no objection to us learning to play instruments. After all, performance is a lower art, and our jealous father had no qualms with us indulging in it. We spent all waking hours consumed in music -most of our dreaming hours as well. We learned to play everything, and we composed for everything.

One day, my brother and I were playing a duet that I had composed for violin and cello. It was beautiful, its main melody haunting. We were almost crying in happiness as we played, for the sheer joy of playing this new beautiful music. Just before the end, our father burst into the room, tears on his face. We thought he wasn't home. He had been listening in the corridor. He had heard my composition. He had an expression on his face of horror, betrayal, and most of all, fear.

Over the next few months, our father did not speak to us. Our instruments disappeared. It caused us near-unbearable pain to be without them, but we thought it best not to go looking for them just yet. We were eventually informed that within days we were to be sent to St. Noble's Academy for Boys. Students at this school, generally the sons of the wealthy nobility, studied three subjects: accounting, politics and military tactics. More importantly, the arts of every kind were strictly forbidden to the students of the Academy, dismissed as unsuitable for noblemen.

There was only one thing to do, of course: we ran away.
Our father searched for us. To the public he looked like a passionately devoted father looking for his children. We knew the truth. We knew he could not let us go. He needed to be the next Mozart.

We traveled by train, getting as far away as possible. For the first time, we saw the ocean. We stopped in an abandoned fisherman's hut by the sea. We used all the money we had brought with us on paper, pens and a shabby old harpsichord that we spent all day bringing back to the hut. We decided to write an opera, away from our father, and away from Mozart. It would be entirely our own, and it would be perfect.

Sleep Texts: Disgusting Peasant!

What a busy night of texting! I was quite mean to everyone. I'm guessing I must have been some sort of royalty or noblewoman.

Catheryne and I had been talking about a youtube video, and there was an hour long break between my last awake text and this one from her:

Catheryne: Omg, no kidding...but they always make me laugh.

Me: (now asleep) This is no time to laugh. Who do you think you are?

Catheryne: There is always room for laughter even in the most dire situations. I was sent to help you. How may I be of service?

Me: Away with you. I am incapable of tolerating purposeful stupidity.

Catheryne: Purposeful stupidity? Who do you think you are, treating others like that?

Me: Be gone this instant before I call my attendants. You come, peasant, begging a boon, and speak to me thusly. Stupid indeed.

Catheryne: Attendants? HAH! Your attendants do not scare me and neither do you. I simply ask for some kindness, but I can see that your heart is made of stone.

Me: Go away, little boy. It is not worth the energy to have you executed.

Catheryne: I curse you and your family for all eternity! You should think about being nicer to a child next time!

Me: Freakish ingrate, this one. Disgusting.

Catheryne: You're disgusting!


Sorry Catheryne! Also, I don't' think Catheryne was actually a child in my mind. I think she was an adult man, and I was belittling her by calling her little boy. Not sure though, but that's the impression I get from my vague memories of it.

At the same time, I texted Nathan, Ashley and Anjin, who where apparently my attendants.
First with Anjin:
Me: Attendants! Attendants! Remove this idiotic peasant from my presence.

Anjin: Ok, but I wont like it.

Me: Why am I surrounded by insolence in my own court! Remove yourself as well, I will not see you again here.


Then with Nathan:
Me: Attendants! Attendants! Remove this idiotic peasant from my presence.

Nathan: I am sorry my Lady. The peasants grow restless in these times of uncertainty.

Me: Did I ask for your evaluation? I will let you know when you are allowed to have an opinion. Go do as I say.

Nathan: Yes, yes, of course. They shall be thrown from your presence with exceptional enthusiasm.

Me: If I had the energy, I would execute you for sarcasm. Fool.


It's hard to find good attendants these days, apparently.

Sleep Texts: Sapling

Me: (still awake around 11): Are we still all going to the beach tomorrow?

Catheryne(12:46am): Yes 11ish I'm leaving at 2 to go to westside on my way back and then to work at 4

Me (now asleep): Why are you so hasty, young one. Take the Summer to think about where you are.

Catheryne (realizing I'm asleep.): I've been thinking about it, but I haven't come to any conclusions...sigh

Me: Of course you haven't. There are no conclusions to such things. You must learn not to be too hasty.

Catheryne: I'm trying not to be hasty but it's just so hard. I wish I could know now, but it's a good thing I have you to guide me
Catheryne: What do you think I should do?

Lizzy: Hasty questions. Go now and be still.



I remember the dream partially, and I think I was a tree, and Catheryne was a young sapling.

Dream: Five Hearts

My dream last night was less violent, and yet more upsetting than some. Also harder to explain.

I dreamed it was many years in the future, and I was reluctantly going to my mother's funeral. (In real life I am very close to my mom, so any dream about her is usually pretty upsetting. In the dream, we were not close at all, and I hadn't spoken to her for years.)
While going through her stuff, I found a novel that she had written. It was called The Five Hearts that broke Judith. It was about her children, and how one by one they betrayed and hated her, breaking her slowly as a human being until finally she died alone and half insane. There were so many details in the book that I only half remember now that I'm awake. In real life my mom has four children, but in the dream there was a younger sister, Christine, who drowned when none of us were looking. She was only three years old. I don't remember what finally caused me to disown my mom, but I remember that we had a huge fight. I turned to leave, saying this was it -I will never speak to her again. She begged me not to leave her this way, grabbing my hand. I tore my hand away and left.
I finished reading the book in the dream, and felt terrible. I remember there was good reason for me leaving. And my mom wasn't innocent -she was ruining her children's lives as much as we were ruining hers. But the book was so poignant that I wept for all of our sakes.

I think this was a basic category 1/nightmare. But those can be upsetting enough, and I was crying when I woke up.

Sleep Texts: Ember Ring

Me: Fetch me an ember from the hearth, will you? There's a dear.

Alisha: Of course darling. Potion making again?

Me: No, no. Be careful with that, please. Don't go burning us all to bits. If only we could make it into a wearable pendant.

Alisha: If only, but you know what happened when you tried last time. Lets get on with this, are you sure you only need one ember?

Me: Only one. Any more is just showing off. Maybe it would work as a ring?

Alisha: Maybe. It would be more simple than a pendant anyway. What other components shall we use?

Me: Well, a leaf from the gold tree, probably. We wont be able to get one until next month, though.

Alisha: The crystalline heather may already be ready. Although the color isn't very fireish. Sunlight?

Me: Perhaps some pomegarnets?

Alisha: Delicious and gorgeous!! I'll go fetch some from the royal gardens right away. How many will we need for the setting? Four at most I should think, for a ring.




I love the idea of Pomegarnets! Like a pomegranate fruit, but with garnets inside.

Dream: Elvenkrist

(pronunciation note: Elvenkrist =the krist is not pronounced like Christ, but with the short i as in Chris. Daetian = Day-shun.)

I dreamed that I lived in a large house with my mother and many servants. I never had a father, and I never thought to ask about him. My mother and the maids always insisted that I keep my bed next to the window in my bedroom. My window faced the front of the house. If you stood in the garden, you could see my entire bed clearly. I could see the stars as I fell asleep.

I was usually a very deep sleeper, but occasionally I would sleep restlessly. During these nights, I always sensed a powerful presence, strong and watchful. I thought it was just a recurring dream. On one such night, I could feel myself rising towards the surface of wakefulness. I opened my eyes slightly and saw a man standing outside my window gazing down on me. I was too sleepy to be startled. He was a tall, barrel-chested man with a shaggy beard and a powerful intensity in his eyes. Looking into them, I saw a deep sadness.
"Father." I said aloud, startling myself.

The intense sadness deepened for a moment before he hurried away. I got dressed as fast as I could and followed him. I followed him to an area outside town, through the vast forest. He hurried into a medium sized house surrounded by acres of trees.

The dream cut to after I had confronted him. He confirmed that he was my father. I decided to stay with him whether he allowed me to or not I asked him why he had never spoken to me before. He replied that it was in my own best interest, and that I was never to ask him again.
During my stay with him, he would disappear for a while every day and not tell me where he went. On on e of these days, I became bored in the house, and, disobeying my father, went exploring in the forest. After wandering for an hour or so, I heard voices in the distance. I followed the sound and came to an enormous clearing. There was about a hundred people in the clearing, all dressed very strangely. After a few moments, I realized that the people themselves were odd. Some had glowing eyes, some had elongated ears. They were grouped in a large circle, their attention fixed on something in the center.

I stepped closer to get a better look, and in the center I saw my father -who was floating ten feet above the ground. I gasped aloud and everyone turned. My father saw me and fell, startled, to the ground.We all stared at each other for a few moments in silence. Then someone from the back who appeared to have the legs of a goat said loudly:
"I told ya she'd find out. I told ya you shouldnt've left her out of it. I told ya. Didn't I tell ya?"
"Quit your bleatin, Lunious." someone else yelled.
My father came up to me with that same ancient sadness in his eyes.
"I guess it's time I explained some things." he said.

He explained to me that there were many great races in the world. In the Golden Era, they were separate, each race breeding only with its own kind. But since the Golden Wars have been over and peace has reigned between the races, there was a lot of interbreeding and nearly everyone was a mixture of two or three. My father told me that he was King of the Gypsy races, but even he had some leprechaun, vampirial and some even some Jinn blood in his side of the family. As King of the Gypsies, he held the highest ranking in this part of the world. I learned later that there had been some trouble in other parts of the world. Some wanted to renew the Golden Wars and outlaw interbreeding. As King, my father had been the leader of the armies of this part of the world.

After the day in the forest clearing, everyone who needed to see my father came freely to the house. At any given moment there were ten to fifteen people of all types in the house doing various tasks. There was one man who was there everyday. His name was Daetian, and he was high in the chain of command of the Golden Armies. he would have everyone believe that he was a full-blooded vampire, but it was rumored that he had some demon blood in him. He had nearly-glowing blue eyes, and black hair. He was unrealistically handsome. It was said that he was first choice for my father to appoint as general of the armies. They spent a lot of time strategizing, discussing battle tactics. I distrusted Daetian or no real reason. Maybe it was because I had never met a vampire before. Whatever the reason, I mostly stayed away from him.

The day came when my father had to make the decision of who would be general. Daetian was at the house, as usual, going about the usual tasks with an impatient, eager manner. My father spoke in a casual tone:
"Daetian, Lunious has been evaluated as a candidate for general, and was appointed. The decision will be posted later today."
Across the strategy table, Daetian froze.
"What?" he said in a very quiet voice. My father took out a piece of paper.
"I have the orders right here. I just need to sign it." His voice took on a note of warning. "these are my orders, Daetian."

Daetian continued to stare at my father as if his gaze could pierce through him. I was in the room throughout this exchange. I was on Daetian's side of the table, leaning my back against the wall. Then, quicker than I had ever seen anything move, Daetian had a dagger out from somewhere inside his jacket, and pressed it against my throat. I had had no time to react, and I was pinned against the wall. My breath got faster and I looked at my father. His eyes narrowed in fury, his white knuckled hands gripped the table. Daetian spoke:
"Write my name on the papers, sign it, and pass them slowly over the table," he said quietly, almost casually, "or I kill the Elvenkrist."

Even in this situation, with the flat of his ruby-hilted dagger pressing hard against my throat, I couldn't help but think "the what? Elvenkrist?" My confusion must have shown on my face because Daetian suddenly grinned at me with amusement and disbelief. He addressed my father, but his eyes stayed on me.

"You still haven't told her, have you, your majesty?" he laughed. He spoke to me:
"You still don't' know what you are, do you? This is priceless! Allow me to enlighten you."
"Daetian." My father hissed in fierce warning. Daetian ignored him.

He explained that I was the Elvenkrist from the prophecies of the Golden Era. The Elvenkrist, he explained was a perfect hybrid of all the Great Races, and who is royally born. It is said that the Elvenkrist, if taught properly, would have all the powers of each race. After this the prophesy is vague. Some say the Elvenkirst will bring peace to all the races and finally put a complete end to any talk of war. Some say the Elvenkrist will bring continuous war. Some say the Elvenkrist will bring about purity of race once more.

I know, looking into my father's sad eyes, that this was the reason he had given me up as a child. he wanted me to have a happy life, away from terrors of war.
"Now," said Daetian, turning his hate filled gaze back on my father, "I wont have you ruining my fun. I will have my war. Sign the papers, old man."

My father, after several moments of hesitation during which the blade at my throat pressed tighter, signed the papers in golden ink, and pushed them at Daetian. Daetian also signed them.
"Thank you, your majesty." he grinned again. "Now if you will excuse me, I have important business to attend to." He put the dagger back into his jacket, but before I could edge away, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into him.
"I think I'll take the little Elevnkristita. The cheeky blighter's growing on me."
"No!" screamed my father as he dove across the table. Suddenly, it was as if reality melted.

The next thing I knew I was in a small room with no furniture and no windows, still held in Daetian's grip. Apparently, vampires could disappear and reappear at will. I blacked out.
I don't know how much time passed before I came to. I was alone and shackled to the ground in the middle of the room. Daetian opened the door and entered.
"It's a shame you were never trained." he said bemusedly . "You would know how to get yourself out of this predicament."

He began to move around me in a circle, slowly.
"Do you know what vampires do, little Elvenkrist?" He smiled wolfishly."They absorb people's essences. Their power. Just think of the power that passes though your veins."
I didn't' know this at that moment, but when a vampire is about to bite someone, the victim's veins begin to glow golden. I looked down at my arms I could make out each vein as it shown through my skin like a brilliant golden light.

Then I woke up! x_x

Dream: Apple Tree Savior

Last night all I dreamed was that I was being chased by an evil ghost of a little girl, and I ran right into a lion's den and was ripped apart and eaten. Since that's just a short uninteresting little nightmare, here is a dream from a few weeks ago that I had written down:

I dreamed I was a nun. Another nun and I were the only people living in a small convent in the countryside next to a small town. We were both quite young and even attractive, but everyone in the town disliked us and shunned our little church. We knew it was important to bring people back to the church and to restore the dignity of the convent. We prayed to God for a miracle in desperation. God's messenger visited both of us in a dream saying that a miracle would come to us in the apple orchard.
The next day, we waited by the apple trees in front of the sanctuary. There was a ladder leaning up against the trunk of the largest apple tree. The tree started to creak loudly, and the trunk split open at the top. Down the ladder stepped a man. We knew immediately that it was Jesus, but his body was completely made out of wood from the apple tree. The wood moved almost as freely as a body made of flesh. When he got to the bottom of the ladder, he looked at us with such complex intensity, then stumbled as though he was unused to such a form. The other nun and I caught him and turned to bring him inside. We noticed then that there was a man standing on the path that led to the village. He was an old rival of our convent, always convincing the other villagers that we were not to be trusted to spread the word of God. He had seen what had just happened and he turned and ran down the path to the villagers. Before we were halfway to the sanctuary doors, most of the villagers were mobbing towards us, yelling for us to give up our Lord Jesus to them. They screamed that we were not fit to have him. Jesus belonged to the village, they yelled. We were terrified and went as quickly as possible into the sanctuary and bolted the doors behind us. We set the now unconscious Jesus down on a small bed in an antechamber as the villagers pounded on the giant doors.
We stood in the church looking at each other, not knowing what to do next when suddenly two men ran out from the shadows. One went after the other nun who ran into the hallway and out of sight. The other put a silver arrow to his bow, advancing while I retreated. I tripped on the alter steps. He set his drawn arrow in front of my face.
"Where is my Lord?" he said very quietly.

Then I woke up suddenly. I hate waking up at moments like this. I'll never get to know what happens! grrrr

Dream: Drunken Babies?

I dreamed there was a new societal order put in place, and everyone was assigned a job. This certainly isn't a new idea, I think I read a book cover that had a similar premise the other day, and my brain was probably toying around with it.
But I dreamed that both my friend Catheryne and I were assigned to be prostitutes. High class prostitutes, but still. I absolutely refused to accept this as my permanent occupation. So I ran away.
At one point in the dream, I needed to hide from the authorities that were after me. So I ducked into what I thought was a factory, stole some clothing and tried to blend in for a few hours. It turned out to be a research laboratory. In this wing of the lab, they were testing the effects of alcohol and possible hangover cures on babies. Something about babies being a better test subject because they were free of the environmental toxins of adults. (It made sense in the dream). There were hundreds of babies being fed alcohol, and I couldn't possibly save them and had to leave them behind.

Most of the dream was running and hiding from the authorities. I think at the end of the dream, I was captured and brought back to the "Companion house." I just thought the idea of baby hangovers was weird enough include here.

Dream: Battle

Every once in a while I have a dream that consists completely of a battle. These dreams are usually extremely long, very very detailed and gory. They take place in different time periods. I am always a male in these dreams. I wake up exhausted with feelings of post traumatic shock. It wears off, but still -these are some of my least favorite dreams.

Last night I seemed to be an ancient Celt. I think my name was Drusten? That's what my countrymen yelled at me when they saw me on the battlefield, warning me or calling for help.
We were not speaking English in this dream. (Although, it's my subconscious, so it must have been English, but I woke up remembering words that were shouted, and they were not English. Although I do remembered what they meant.)
We were fighting an enemy that in my dream seemed extremely alien to me, but now that I'm awake I realize they were Romans. We were losing. These Romans seemed like demons to me.
I carried a giant double bladed axe. I was one of the only men in my tribe who could weild it, which was a great source of pride to me. It was a formidable weapon, and did cut through the Roman armor, if I was lucky enough to land a blow. I killed so many people in this dream. But the Romans were faster, more numerous and better armed. I was shocked by how many of countrymen fell around me. I saw my father fall. I was too late to save him, but I cleaved his killer nearly in two with my axe. My father had been an important person in my tribe, which meant that I must now take his place. I tried not to think about it during the battle.
I can't remember the end of the dream. Just the image of looking around at all the carnage around me and realizing that these foreign demons were going to be victorious over my people. My people, who have never lost a battle.

These battle dreams are very disturbing. I live every moment of the battle, and I can remember details you shouldn't remember from dreams: pain, smell, the feeling of rain and blood in my eyes as I try to see, increasing fatigue, sunburn and dehydration. These are senses I shouldn't be experiencing from a dream.

Dream: Soul in Hand

I dreamed I was riding in my friend Ashley's convertible with my other friends, Anjin, Catheryne and April. We were driving down Mayfield rd when suddenly a car going 70mph in oncoming traffic swerved into our lane and hit us head on. We were all killed.
We woke up in the middle of a dark forest. After asking around to make sure all of us were okay, we noticed each of us held in our hand a ball of glowing light. Everyone's was a different color.
Mine was indigo purple.
Aprils was royal blue.
Ashley's was orange.
Catheryne's was rose pink.
Anjin's was emerald green.
We didn't know what these glowing balls were, but we knew somehow that they were extremely important. None of us wanted to set them down, or put them away, so we just kept them in our hands.
Not knowing what else to do, we started walking through the forest, trying to find anyone or anythign that could give us some answers. Eventually we came to the edge of the woods, and saw a small cottage. A short, odd-looking man was chopping wood out front.
"Excuse me," we called to him. He looked up, startled and unfriendly. We tried to ask him where we were. He didn't seem to be listening. He was staring at my left hand where I was unsuccessfully trying to conceal the indigo light that was shining through my fingers. His eyes widened.
"Put that away!" he hissed. We stared at him in surprise.
"Get in the house. Go!" he whispered frantically. We fled quickly through the door. The woodcutter followed us, looking around at the forest fearfully as he shut the door. Inside was a large, comfortable room with a big wooden table and a woodstove. A small plump woman was busy cooking something. She looked around at us all in surprise when we walked in.
"What's all this then?" she asked. Then she caught sight of Ashley's glowing orange ball and her eyes grew wide and fearful.
"What do you mean, bringing them in here!?" she hissed at her husband. "The last thing we need is that kind of trouble!"
"Hush, wife." he said. "Can't you see they don't even know where they are? If we let them go by themselves, they'd be killed in hours."
We all sat at the table and they asked us our story. We told them that the last thing we remembered was the car accident, and they nodded as if this confirmed soemthing they had already suspected. They told us that sometimes when people in our world die, but were not supposed to die, they came to this world. It didn't' happen often, but often enough that everyone of this world knew of it. They told us that our only chance of regaining our lives and returning to our world was to petition the King, who lived in a palace in the center of the kingdom. There we would have to present our case to the King's bureaucrats and wait for the chance to petition the King directly. He would then decide whether or not you should return to your life, or remain here until you died properly.
We asked them why they were so afraid when they first saw us. They gave each other a knowing look, then the woodcutter took a deep breath. He told us that the glowing balls we carried in our hands were our souls. Only those from our world had them. If you lost your soul, you would die completely. He told us that our souls were extremely valuable in this world. They could be cut up and used as an ingredient in very rare, very powerful magic. An entire otherworld soul was worth more than most people made in their lifetimes.
"There are many," the woodcutter's wife said grimly, "who would be willing to kill you for even a tiny piece of your soul. Even the most kindhearted might be tempted. You must disguise yourselves. Try to blend in until you get to the palace. Keep those souls hidden! Especially from the warlocks..."
Warlocks? I asked. They exchanged another look.
They told us that the warlocks were a species of very powerful magic users. There was an unstable peace between the worlocks and the King. Our souls, they told us, were a tremendous source of power for the warlocks. They could sense them. If they didn't know of our presence yet, they would soon and they would be after us with horrible determination.
"Never stay in one place too long, or they will catch up with you." The woodcutter said. "Even information about you would be extremely valuable, if anyone is foolish enough to try to deal with warlocks."
The woodcutter and his wife gave us some new clothes to help disguise ourselves, and some provisions for the journey. They also gave us each something extremely valuable: small leather bags that were spelled to preserve the magic of their contents. We hid our souls in these bags, and wore them on a string around our necks, under our clothes. We were extremely touched by their kindness and generosity. They waved us away and wished us luck with grim expressions.

There was one point of the dream when we learned that the warlocks had been growing more and more powerful. One warlock had figured out a way to travel to our world for a short time. We found out much later that he was the driver of the other car that had hit us. We also learned that the souls that burn brightest are the souls of artists. We had been targeted, and our souls would give the warlocks enough power to take over their own world, and perhaps others.

Sleep Texts: Spice Merchant Again!

It's unusual for there to be a continuing theme in sleep texting. Although The cactus book theme was rather long-running a few years ago. Obviously whatever I have to say to the spice merchant is very important. In the other texts I said he knows where my husband has been taken.
This message I sent to my friends Chris and Adam, and one of my professors. It's the third time I have sleep texted this professor, which is rather mortifying. Luckily, he knows about it, and finds it entertaining.
Only Adam responded. Here is the short conversation:

Me: I have sought and found the blue rose of forgetfulness. Now, where is he who will trade with me for secrets?

Adam: I am a minstrel -well traveled, much loved, yet lonely. I have many secrets. Which secrets do you want in trade for your lovely rose?

Me: I want no musical secrets. Go away, if you cannot tell me where the spice merchant is.

Adam: Is that the spice merchant's ship I see approaching on the horizon? Sails billowing, flags flying, making good speed! Is this his ship?


Haha, nice responses, Adam. It's funny how my crazy subconscious brings out the creativity of my friends.

Dream: Lost Soldier

All I remember about last night's dream was that I was a soldier that had been wounded, and left on the battlefield because I was presumed to be dead. The dream had a medieval feel to it, and I think the war might have been the crusades. I was unconscious for weeks because of my injuries. When I awoke from that unconsiousness I was in a strange bed, in a room I didnt' recognize. It was night and my bed was by the window. I could see a huge city lit spread out below this window, as the house was high on a hill in the city. I could see torches, and candles in people's windows. I had never seen a city before because I was raised in a small village. It was beautiful. I remember very vividly the breeze from the window blowing across my half-bandaged face, bringing with it the smell of people's fireplaces. I couldn't move, but I started to cry.

When I woke up from this dream, I was sitting up looking out the window next to my bed. I really was crying, and it took me several minutes to regain my own identity. It was very confusing.