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“I’ve just been certified as a shaman, or sha-woman, if you please,” Dr. Tuttle said.”

“My vision pixelated, moiréed, then blurred and womped back into focus. ”

“I got you something,” I said, “to condole you.”
Reva dropped everything on the bed and opened the box. Her eyes filled with tears—just like in a movie—and she embraced me. It was a good hug. Reva had always been good at hugs. I felt like a praying mantis in her arms.”

The day would be hell. I would suffer. I felt I might not survive. I needed a dark, quiet room, my videos, my bed, my pills. I hadn’t been this far from home in many months. I was frightened.
“Can we stop for coffee?”
“There’s coffee at the house,” Reva said.
I truly hated her in that moment...

'You may consider getting a pet to build up your relational skills. Parrots, I hear, are nonjudgmental.'

'I don’t like the term ‘dream journal,’” she told me at our in-person appointment in June. “I prefer ‘night vision log.’

“I told Dr. Tuttle I was having trouble concentrating. She said it was probably due to “brain mist.”

“Daily meditation has been shown to cure insomnia in rats.”