narratives2

Mary Cole, 72 years old, dementia patient


I need to wake up. How long did I sleep? I don’t remember. I can see warm light from the windows. I think it’s afternoon. I stand up, and I’m thinking. Where I am now? I have to make a dinner for my dear. I have to go grocery shopping. I have to get out of here. Open the windows; I’m looking down the park. I’m going to water my tomatoes. I went outside; I don’t know where I am. I’m walking on corridor. I can see exit sign. That’s it. I want to get out of here. This corridor is warm bright. I really like to walk through here. Finally I got there, suddenly it’s too dark. I’m hesitating to go forward. A corridor slopes gently upward. The dark-color painted corridor seems like no light. The dense and tactile feeling of an intensive blackness makes me hesitate to continue my way. Stepping through the corridor, I reach a heightened a balcony-like structure where comfortable chairs provide my final position of the darkness. I sit down there and wait for lighting. I almost forgot to make some lunch for my children. They are going to be home soon. But where am I? Now I can see a thing. And I look around it. There is an un-uniformed very dim light spots that leads me to go back in there. Oh boy, I have to make good dinner for my dear…