In between educational and artistic ventures, however, we had plenty of time to ourselves. That meant that I had plenty of time to go shopping for an important part of my plan. As we packed up on Tuesday evening, I wondered vaguely if airport security would rifle through my shopping bags and see what I'd purchased. Part of me was mortified at the idea, but I couldn't help the wicked grin that came across my face when I thought about scandalizing some TSA person for the day.We arrived back on campus around 3am, and I went directly to my dorm. I sent Jason a text message to let him know that I'd gotten home ok, but didn't get a response so I knew he was probably very asleep. I very quietly unpacked my bags and repacked a small duffel bag, trying not to wake my suite-mates. I knew that if they heard me up and moving, they would poke their heads in to see how the trip went. I imagined them walking in just as I was opening one of my new purchases and found this substantially less amusing. Let try this: squeeze my hand once." I wasn't even sure where my hands were so I squeezed both just to make sure I had one. The right one was holding something. "Good! Now squeeze my hand twice." I squeezed it twice. "Excellent! Ok, John, you're in a hospital. You were in an accident and you were hit on the head. You've been unconscious for a while, but we've stitched you all up and you're healing right on schedule. Squeeze my hand twice if you understood all that."I squeezed twice. Of course I understood. I'd been living in a fantasy for two years. Dream time. Who knows how long I'd actually been out.The doctor checked a few things, poked and prodded. "Well, John, I'm impressed! Your family told me that you did tend to recover quickly." Family? What family. I don't do family. "Oh. Here." He reached beside my head and removed something.All of a sudden, sound became much clearer. "You were disturbed by even slight sounds when they first brought you in. There was some bruising to your.
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