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What if

One day it just wasn’t working anymore.

What if

You needed to step out from behind the murky mask and go your own way.

What if

Your heart stopped beating to the familiar drum of clatter and chaos.

What if

You slipped into your comfortable shoes, your bed clothes, a shiny lake

And the mist blurred your edges as your feet danced on the pebbled ground

And you never let them squeeze into the sharp places that cut again,

And only silk on your body

And warm mugs of tea

Beside Jacaranda and Patchouli.

You remember a fragrance from childhood. What was it?

Dreams.

It was called dreams.

Eve Louise Makoff is an internal medicine and palliative care physician. She has published essays and poetry focused on both narrative medicine and personal topics. Dr. Makoff is studying narrative medicine...