Dream Journal Update – Hugh and Me

July 23, 2016

“You are the most beautiful man in the world,” I tell him. He looks like Hugh Jackman – maybe he is Hugh Jackman – and he seems a bit embarrassed, but not surprised. “That is why I am so forward,” I say, “asking if I can touch you.” He is tall and solid and strong and I want to lean up against him.

“Let me fix you,” Hugh says. I agree only because I am under his spell and his charm. But something goes wrong. After the mystery treatment, only the whites of my eyes show; the irises are barely visible on the edges of the eye sockets; they float around. He is frantic but he can get it fixed.

I notice Hugh’s feet are deformed: clubbed feet with whispers of toes. But he is still so beautiful. Oh no, his hands are deformed also. Clubbed stumps for hands. How did I miss that? I feel sorry for him but try to remember how beautiful he is. I am not sure I want him to touch me now.

The doctor is nervous; I can hear it in his voice. Only three secret doctors in the world can fix my eyes. He knows who they are, but he is not one of them. Cost is $1,800. I am desperate and scared. I beg Hugh to come with me, and he feels so guilty that he agrees. They whisk me off and later I don’t remember anything. Did they drug me immediately? After the treatment, my left eye looks normal but the iris in the right eye is still off center and wobbles. Can they fix it? Probably not.

The doctor warns me about being careful the next few weeks and to avoid Novocaine. But I have dentist appointments the next two days for an implant. Yes, there will be numbing. And I had a detached retina. The doctor is upset. He turns to Hugh. “You told me she was healthy. This is a serious problem.” He sounds angry.

I try to find the doctor who operated on me. Finally I get someone in Asia on the phone. It is a secret Buddhist retreat, or some type of alternative healing center. They had to re-attach the ligaments that hold my eyeballs in place. They stitched them together from the outside of my face. Somehow Hugh had accidentally severed them.

The doctor here is angry that I found the operating doctor in Asia. Hugh is afraid of getting in trouble: I must lie to my parents about the whole situation, he insists, to protect him. To protect them all. I say I will consult with my retinal specialist and they become more afraid of getting in trouble. My cornea has smudges on it but I can wipe them off with my finger now; I’m not scared anymore to touch the eye. I don’t seem to love Hugh anymore. My right eye is still off center. How I wish this were all a dream.

 

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About B. E. Berger

Making life better by sharing stories and pictures.
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