thank you for the dream last Friday evening. I hadn't realized I was in need of one until my appointment in the city. The doctor was assuring me that my eyes would heal on their own—I just had to keep them wet, as with hydrangeas—but still I continued to be unsettled by his diagnosis. The various machines in his office were unhelpful. Only one wall was machine-free. It contained a mirror, a chair, and, most important, a window. Outside, a shadow fell over the city, and I knew you'd sent me a gift. I was relieved. And my eyes were wet for the rest of the night.