There are people at my house. We go to a small event. There is to be a big event, with a famous speaker. I have a ride with a man.
"I need to go home." I say.
He has a dish to take the to event. Everyone will eat together after the speaker is done. "Are you sure?" says the man. He doesn't want me to miss the event.
"I need to go home," I repeat.
I don't have food with me to share. But that's not why I need to go home. I am worried. What's bothering me?
One of the men earlier started a fire in the fireplace insert. I think he overdid it. I am dropped off at my house and thank my driver and go inside. He leaves for the big event.
The fire is very hot in the insert. But the hearth is missing stones and looks broken and wrong. There is a tray on top of one part, with wood on it. I move the heavy tray. The wood on the tray flickers: coals. And there are coals glowing between the broken hearth stones.
I carefully pour water on the coals. I shut the insert so the fire will die. I crouch by the hearth, wondering if I should call the fire department. Is the fire out or creeping along under the floor?
Later a third man knocks and asks to come in. "I hear that you repair your own heart." he says. "Will you teach me to repair mine?"
I am surprised. I have written about it a little. I don't want to meet his eyes and I look down. He thinks it's a medical procedure, that I can teach. But I take my own heart out of my chest and repair it with whatever I have. Baling wire, lace, embroidery floss, dental floss, patches of velvet and leather. First I have to crack my own chest. Awake. With the saw. I can't even imagine telling him that. It hurts so much just to do that.
I wake up.