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If I called, I knew that she was sitting there drawing me. She had several of me and I could recognize myself by the similarities. If we were talking about going out to dinner, there was me with a steak or lobster or fish or pork. Her mind unconsciously was running through a menu of her choices that she might order.If I called and we had a wee bit of phone sex or I was indicating that maybe we should have sex tonight, the little stick figure grew a little penis. She had a standard figure for herself. Lots of times these little figures would show interaction. If we planned to get it on tonight and I had called to set it up, her figures would be intertwined.I asked her shortly after we first met how she got started doing this. She had been shown in first grade by her teacher how to draw stick figures and it just became a habit. So much so, that she wasn't even aware of doing it anymore. If you had asked her what she had drawn on the paper after she hung up the phone, she would not have. " WHAT? What the hell am I doing in his house? Why am I not in a fuckingmilitary hospital or something? And how the hell did I get back fromHonduras so fast? And where's my fucking team? And what am I doing inthis body? AARRGH!" Only after a few seconds did I realize what I said, which probablyfreaked out the poor assistant more than I anticipated. My head wasspinning so fast I could hardly see straight, and though I wanted to staystanding, gravity had other plans for me. I hit the floor for the secondtime, only this time more painfully. I sat on the floor trying to collect my thoughts for a minute, thenlooked up at Greg and said simply, "You think I'm crazy, don't you?" Ah- maybe you should go back to bed, I'll get the doctor for you-" Hestammered. I didn't have the energy or the balance to argue, so I justleaned on him and went back to bed. I woke up again looking at the blank ceiling. I was still in that worldhalfway between sleep and waking, when a thought ran through my.
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