Letter; Patricia Olean to Michael Patterson
My dearest Michael,
It seems an age since I've seen you. I think about you every day. Oh Michael, won't it be wonderful when we're finally wedded! Then we shall never need to be parted as long as this. With you in Greenwich and I here in London, I fear I am losing my mind in worry for you. Please tell me you are okay. Your occupation calls for such dreadful work. But you must tell me all. Tell me everything about the people you have met and the perils you have faced and when you return I will be here to support the emotions that fill your very soul.
I am very eagerly awaiting your return, for my days have dragged on with only my diary and the London times to fill my time. And when neither of the pair can satisfy my boredom I simply close my eyes and let dreams fill my mind. My dreams have been very wild as of late. I suppose it is the news articles and the awaiting of your return that are filling my head with such strange images. You were in one of my dreams. You were a bandit, trying to rob me of my most prized possessions. However I had none to give you, and as a result you were infuriated and grew swollen and red. With a mighty swing of your arm you knocked me across the room, but instead of falling violently to the ground, I gently drifted off into the open and far away from all civilization. I was soon surrounded by white mist and all else was black. In my mind I heard the singing of a young girl which, in my dream, sent me to sleep. After awaking I had to jot it all down so I could get to know my mind and my dreams. I have made this a study for me. I am to write down all unconscious thought and see if I can find a pattern. So far my dreams only appear to be random and without meaning, but hopefully I can find a common link.
I must finish writing you here, for sleep is creeping on me even now.
Yours always
Patricia