Mission: Interpretation!

Last night, when the patients were sleeping and I got the Sleep Center cleaned, I went out back and made a small campfire by the dumpster.  Sammy was working that night and said he might join me.  He never did, though after a while Marcel came out.  He asked if he could join me and I told him to pull out one of the folding chairs from behind the dumpster that I keep for Sammy and Boyce.  Marcel is always friendly to me, but he had never joined me out back before, especially in winter.  He generally works during the day because the administrators who schedule him want him to be there when they come visit.  Even the heterosexual men want to be around Marcel so they can feel energized by his stories about sailing around the world.  Everyone wishes they could tell a story that included the line, “He was my friend—I couldn’t just let him drown.” 

Marcel asked me if there were birds out here during winter, and I reminded him about the nesting box I built in one of the trees to get the Great Horned Owl to come, Rachel’s favorite bird.  He said, “You know, I’ve known you for a couple years Cyrus and I’ve never met Rachel.  Are you hiding her from me?”  He figured out he said something he shouldn’t have, so he said, “Sorry, brother,” and for a moment I wished I had once fallen overboard on a boat that Marcel was on.  He asked me if the Great Horned Owl ever came, and I said no, but that there were a couple Eastern Screech Owls living in the box.  We waited for them for ten minutes.

Marcel asked me if I remembered Marty Bulfinch, his neighbor.  Of course, I did.  It was Marty Bulfinch’s note to Marcel wondering what happened to me that got me blogging again after the holidays.  Marcel said that between his apartment and Marty’s lives a man named Virgil Ray.  Marcel and Marty have discussed on several occasions that they both can hear Virgil kicking the walls and having a dream that was clearly terrifying him.  Marcel said neither he nor Marty are close to Virgil, so they haven’t told him they know he is plagued with nightmares.  Marcel asked me, if he figured out a way to bring the subject up with Virgil, if I could help out somehow.  "Even if you don't want to help him," Marcel said, "you can help me get a better night's sleep without Virgil's sobbing."

I told Marcel I wasn’t really in the business of stopping dreams so much as interpreting them.  It’s possible if I interpreted the night terrors to Virgil maybe that will get them to stop. If it’s something buried deep that becomes conscious through interpretation, there may be no more need for his mind to express it through night terror.  Marcel thanked me and put the chair back behind the dumpster, leaving me with the fire.  It wasn’t long until one of the Eastern Screech Owls came back from hunting and perched on its nesting box.  I watched him for a long time and thought about a lot of things.  Eastern Screech Owls mate for life.

This morning Marcel texted me the following:

Having Virgil over this weekend.  Come.  We’ll start talking dreams and get him to talk. 

I don’t know what’s more exciting.  That I’ve got a bona fide mission, or that I’ve got a mission in Marcel’s apartment!  I texted him and asked if it was okay if Sammy and Boyce came, but Marcel said it’s probably better with just a few people.  He said Marty Bulfinch will be there, and they’ll disguise the evening as a poker night.  I texted back and said to email me with all the details he knows about Virgil Ray.  The more I know about this unfortunate man the more I can help with his crippling nightmares.  Plus, a real email from Marcel!