‘It’s called the insight, and not many people have it.’
Sarah didn’t expect it, not from her therapist, but she seemed to understand. When she told her of her dreams, in glorious technicolour, she wasn’t surprised. Sitting on her red couch, looking around an office full of cushions. Yellow, green, blue. Picture frames with all her animals (including a big red dog, the size of a horse) it all felt real.
‘So me dreaming the way I do, isn’t unusual.’
‘Of course not,’ the doctor said. ‘It is because of how your brain works.’
‘Even if I dream of flying, like I have the gift of flight, or getting on an airplane. Although I always forget my ticket.’
‘Exactly, perfectly normal for someone with the insight.’
‘Does it have something to do with my Asperger’s?’
‘Yes, many people with the insight are on the spectrum.’
Sarah smiled, as she woke up from her dream, they always made her smile. At least it was better than seeing the actual therapist. Her office was so minimalistic, and she could never think about what to say.
It was difficult to explain, how loud her surroundings were. How socially, it was awkward. Being in a crowd a nightmare, where her words got all muddled, and she couldn’t think of anything suitable to say.
Maybe tomorrow night she might actually remember her passport.
Italy was nice this time of year.