She dreamt of a million different stories. Stories about peoples lives. Stories about companies. Stories about families. Stories about heroes. Stories about freaks. Stories about the little people. Stories about the great changes in life. Stories of rescues. Stories about those left behind.
She dreamt she told all the stories and the world listened.
It was easier to dream. The dreaming made more sense than waking. And as always when the waking was invoked into thought it chased her down the rabbit hole into that place where the bright lights were.
Her eye lids flickered open slowly. Gentle, yet confused, blue eyes with pupils contracting due to the light. A sound screamed across the back of her mind just far enough away that she couldn't hear it. She wondered if it was a word, or a person, or a place she just couldn't remember.
"Good morning, Miss Lane. How are you feeling today?" The voice said from the doorway. Her eyes focused slowly on a nice suite and a smiling face. It was lengthened hair, but tied back always.
Sitting up very slowly she reached up to touch her hair. She'd seen it in the reflective glass of the rooms window that watched her all around the room. It was a very short, flipped out style of hair. It probably looked classy brushed and shining but for the moment it always looked a little messed up.
"My heads a little foggy," she remarked, reaching up and running her fingers through her dark chestnut hair. "My dreams are still weird."
She was being kept here because she'd been in a traumatic accident. She couldn't remember what it was. In fact, she couldn't remember much at all. Except him. Her savior. The man who was helping her a little more each day to remember how to live.
Flipping open the metal chart with well kept and very clean hands, he regarded it seriously while giving a non-commital sound from his throat through closed lips. Then he closed the file and placed it back in the wall holder and folded his hands. He stared at her intently through steely blue-grey.
"Thats to be expected while your rehabilitating. You chart says you've improved to sleeping through the night. Anything else?"
Glancing around the room with it's either solid walls or relfective glass to glass windows, her hands rubbed the stratchy fabric of the hospital gown against the skin beneath it. She stopped biting her bottom lip and took a deep breath, before blurting out; "I was hoping since I've been improving I could go outside today. Maybe spend sometime in the fresh air and sunshine?"
"Not yet, Lois. I'm not sure your body is up to any large ammounts of stress yet," he remarked backing towards the opendoor. "Gladys will be in with your breakfast in a few moments."
She tried not to frown a buit when he said her name, because it still didn't feel natural to respond when he called her that. Her lip quirked up on one side, giving her an adorable smirk, and she said teasingly. "Maybe it'll be coffee and bagels this time instead of hospital food? Maybe she'll be able to smuggle me some real food, pershap out of your doctor's lounge? What you think, Doctor?"
"I'll see what I can do to get you some real food soon. I know how terribly depressing it can be to eat hospital food for weeks," he said with a soft laugh, walking out. He looked back and smiled at her, the smile of a wild beast in the wilderness, who was protecting her for the moment. "As I told you, we're very hand on people here and like to get on a person to person basis, no standing on formality. Just call my Lionel."