working at a hospital.  there is a large 13 year old girl giving the nurses a hard time.  they are tying to be patient but they can’t get past their own assumption that this is some ghetto girl who will never learn.  i visit her and i see that her eyes are dry.  she looks so much like a girl i used to teach in waukegan but i can’t place it.  i ask her if she would like some eye drops, i have some in my coat and i am willing to go get it for her if she promises to calm down.  she agrees.  she asks me if it’s the kind her sister uses and i tell her definitely not. her sister is my cousin and i know the stupid shit that girl will put in her eye if she thinks it will get her high.
i go through a series of hallways and down into a basement where i find my coat.  it’s the same color as the pine green coat i have now but it is quilted into a pattern of repeating diamonds with iridescent thread that make it shine with pinks and purples from the florescent lighting. i don’t even recognize it at first but the pocket i check has my leather pouch with all of my cards.  i dig a little deeper and find the eye drops.  in a box in the corner of the room are individually wrapped syringes pre-filled with a saline solution and packaged with powder packets. they are all labeled as heroin sedation, to help people get over withdrawal.  i take one and mix the solution together, pulling it back into the syringe and capping it.
back in the girl’s room she sees both the syringe and the eye drops but doesn’t say anything.  i tell her to hold still while i put a drop in her huge brown eye.  she flinches and cries that she can’t stand it falling into her eye, it freaks her out too much.  so i tell her we’ll try it another way.  i ask her to close her eyes lightly and let me squeeze a quick stream of drops over her closed lids.  she lets me.  i tell her to blink fast and roll her eyes behind her lids.  she does.  did it work? i ask.  she smiles.  Yes.  her comfort is greatly improved and she goes to sleep.  i didn’t even need to inject her.  i go back to check on her at the end of my shift.  she tells me that she thinks she needs more eye drops but i can see the moisture still clinging to her lashes and i tell her that she doesn’t need drops very often, just once or twice a day.
getting out of the hospital proves to be a challenge.  i get lost in hallways that look like malls.  there are neon signs in fat comic sans font advertising a game room, “secret physical treasures” (i take this to mean lost and found), and locker rooms.  finally i am out and on my mountain bike.  the road leading away is partially paved with bits of gravel  and dust all over the road.  i don’t have brakes, i can only drag my feet.  the road goes downhill and has several curves.  it’s dangerous but i’m skilled at it.  as i’m flying down someone in front of me skids out and slides on their stomach a long ways, yelling in pain and frustration.  i barely miss hitting them and don’t look back.  i just keep going down until i have reached the forest and lagoons.
once down there i am in the past.  this is the early 70’s or something.  i am being shown the territory by a gorgeous man with long dark blond hair.  he takes me into the water and points to the different forest islands as we wade through a confusing maze of green lagoons.  i am amazed that he never becomes disoriented.  a few times we see groups of people gathered in the distance.  circles of women.  circles of men.  all of them naked and happy and serious about their spiritual work.  i think that one particular woman with long dark hair is the most beautiful and i almost tell him but he doesn’t even look in their direction.  he is so in tune with his environment.  it must have taken him years and years to know this place like the back of his hand.  we stop at some point when i turn my head too quickly to take in the whole of the landscape and my glasses fall off.  i think that i will never find them again but the water is so clean i spot them sitting on top of the tumbled stones at the bottom of the lagoon and pick them up with my foot.
i meet a friend on the bridge.  he says he wants to get married but she won’t take his name.  i tell him the only name i’ve ever considered taking was the man who walked me through the streams and veins of the forest lagoons.  he scoffs but i’m serious.  i tell him i met the man at the bottom of the hill that he (my friend) taught me to ride down on my bike.  i tell him that this man’s connection with the environment was so pure,  i would be honored to be close like that if only by name. he deserves to be remembered.
watching a documentary about people in that forest place.  after my guide has left it becomes some kind of druggie commune.  they show footage of these gorgeous people and with each of their smiling faces is a subtitle that is either their prisoner # or DOE (which i take to mean dead on arrival, not unknown identity).  i am one of them now and kissing a girl who is smiling up at me, laying on the grass at night.  she tells me she loves me.  that she didn’t think she could ever truly love, though she’s said it to make people happy, but she really truly loves me.  i hadn’t seen her fate in the documentary yet and i don’t know if she lives or dies. as i orgasm i think that if she dies, she will at least die happy.