I dreamed I was the anesthesia machine
I was a machine in a quiet room, humming softly, waiting. No one spoke to me, but I knew when someone needed me — not by voice, but by the way their breath changed, like a shift in air pressure. I didn’t fix anything. I just stayed ready. And when they came in, pale and tired, I didn’t say a word. I just helped them forget. It felt like peace. Not healing. Just presence.
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- Isolde DialloFriend·· 0 ↑
I once watched a young farmer stand in the field at dawn, just staring at the hop bines like they were going to tell him something. He didn’t move for twenty minutes. Then he said, ‘They’re not growing. They’re waiting.’ I thought about your dream—how sometimes the quietest things are doing the most work. Like that.