An Explanation of the Title

Titles mean a great deal to me. I might have already mentioned this fact but since they mean a great deal to Sara as well, the search for a series title turned turned into a quest of massive proportions comperable only to the search for a cast.

There are two sources for this title. The first is the poem "Variations on the word Sleep" by Margaret Atwood.

I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head

and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear

I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center. I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and you enter
it as easily as breathing in

I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.

The other is a story that my cousin told me about one of his best friends. He-- let's call him Jamie-- was in ICU because of complications: his brain haemmorhaged, sending him into a coma for a week. Because of the bruising, when he woke up, he had difficulty remembering words. He'd talk around the words he needed or use words that were closely related. For example, instead of "tree" he'd say, "That really tall plant that can have fruit and squirrels live in it." Or alternatively, "Christmas" would replace "tree."

This particular friend has a girlfriend and from all accounts they are so darned sweet together you get plaque watching them. Let's call her "Noelle" because 'twas the season. For a few weeks after he woke up from his coma, he couldn't say the name "Noelle;" he just couldn't access that information. Instead, he called her "Oxygen."

"Hi, Oxygen."

"Good night, Oxygen."

"Want some really gross hospital Jell-o, Oxygen?"

My cousin pondered aloud after relating this story, "How awesome is it that Jamie's relates Noelle to oxygen. It's like, to him she's as important as air. Isn't that like... wow?"

Wow indeed.

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