Noon on that day out of the intensive care unit

Bound for a pied-a-terre in the Flemish hospital, Martine and I set to relay a permanent proximity to our daughter. There with my little girl cradled in my arms fighting her sleep. I murmured through cuts of a recollection of nursery rhymes, in parallel, two decades earlier I learned by my growing two boys.

The morning weight lifted as in mind I retrieve from the dragon locked up in her little body, fading away in a peaceful sleep. Martine wiggled a way up as I lifted her over the cradle side bars and lay her down on the mattress, As I stepped away, her hands pulled the cover over.

The morning evident of the force of volition that returns fluttering from an interstellar journey to a head-full splashdown. The soul branching our baby girl a newborn transcendent rainbow color from a tenebrous coma. The stream of light awaking an adulterated eighteen-month backed-up living memory. Through her brain, frayed cable ends under repair, and slow at restoring the fused interface optic fibers. Channeling the spirit permeating a bodily and gradual motorization.

Time lingered on in a honeybee fantasy world. In the corner of my right field of sight the tall sash of the window bay dissipated. Watching the evanescent white pebbled path cleaving lawns with deep bearing scattering bush. Through hazy brushwood shadows the clearing lines over the brushwood tops the precast concrete building wing background of the hospital block. In trance the seasonal foliage swells into a partial obliterating wall throwing me into a future of autumn colors. Shedding a carpet of leaves, morphing my return to the forefront yard. Exposing a monotonous trimming off hazy run low wire mesh fence, sketching the current life winter poster.

The odd pair of unbalanced door leaves swung back to an interior bright blue wall decor, clearing the jamb light of the gleaming floor. Arouse from the white vinyl tiles a surprising burst of the doctor white figure pointed under the head jamb. Restless targeting by sight the number 106. Without further eye seeking in the depth than the surface for a roller ball pen to an open folder. Conscientious at ticking off the marginal boxes of a control sheet. Ignoring Martine's calling question, exposing in manner a mere passage by our a patient's room. In clearing the doorway, she left trailing a monologue reply, which echoes the morning nurse's words, "The examination will probably still be done today,"

In watching our daughter wake up, I stepped off and up to the side of the cradle. Martine moved in behind me, and as I lifted my little girl over the safeguard, swapping her over to her mother. Cradled in her mother's arms, shegrows irritable, distinctive of the morning mumbles and grumbles, her little body in a jelly wobbles, letting herself slip from the arms which held her to the floor.

Our little girl's spirit nurtured her lame newborn body at motorizing a crawl from the waddle of a toddler. Mischievous reach the kitchen cupboard and opening doors. Digging her hands deep without curiosity for the neatly stacked hospital baby patient paraphernalia.

Martine on standby, at the drop of a thought said, She's a little strange -- " with a glimpse asked me, Don't you think so?

Reluctant to concede to my little girls exigencies, I did step up, heaved her onto the worktop. Hips squared and against the edge, arms spread wide a safeguard, and my hands ready to grab in. In an ongoing wrestling off, of her jelly grips. Lifted her off, and placed her once more in the middle of the room. Martine with an acute gaze watched as she re-started climbing up the sofa, repeating, She's not normal -- Her brain has been affected!"

While I sweat out the wait, twiddling with the promises of a manifestation, circling the little room as time lingers on arousing a profound sense of been neglected. Our little girl re-learning where she left off before sinking in the tenebrea rejected our interference. She unconscious shed the blame, at wakingup from a coma, in a blinding light dimmed a sunrise expectation of an upcoming day, not a parent appeared in sight. With mischief repeatedly monkeying the backrest of the chair, where her mother tempted to distract with education games, and I pleaded lifting her to safety, from anything higher than the floor.

Figures in white outfit had appeared before the robotic male had moved from behind a meal delivery trolley. After which in blue appeared the Arab immigrant in the doorway light, revealing timely out of pace at clearing long overdue meal trays. Quiescent, alone and sentient forgotten long intervals, at these least expected moments, I was surprised to hear Sibylle pronounced, and glanced behind for the voice hailing my daughter's official name. Sighting the ghostly successive service, as emergent figures from the backdrop white

wall and floor. Pointing with a far distant expression off a clipboard, drooping eyes from reading the door head. Assured he mumbled with an Arabic accent, [Dutch] I'm coming to get Sibylle for a radiography examination."

Everything is strange about the character. Arousing to imagine phantoms from the shadows of dusty charcoal crawling coal vein vehicle. Interrupted hauling mining figures to the surface from a shaft to a bright lit laboratory, as Martine pleaded, [Dutch] May we come along?"

The low rank patient fetcher didn't answer, faced by a wall of the parents from snatching in the depth of the room a child's cradle. Neither did Martine's flirtingwords touch a man's sensibilities, as she said,So that our child wouldn't feel abandoned. She glimpsed at me with awaking eyes. Pointing after the leaving figure, improvising with pushy words, You go. I'll stay behind.

From the honeycomb cell, I tracked the evanescent patient fetcher with an eye roll toward the blind wall of the left decorative door leaf, while bending over and picking up my little girl off the floor. Stepping out cradling my little girl, skimming surrounding doorways, catching up with the fetcher. Too early to drop erroneous thoughts, of a timely story, neither private rooms, either child admitted having a parent, or nurse babysitting. Curiously discovering a blank fluorescent lit back-way through leading geometric shade. Too incomprehensible for a coherent chat with my baby the sense of a destination by an intermittent network with pointers to various departments.

At a counter flash with the wall the child fetcher looped through a heel over toedance step, the clipboard in a flattering mock registration with the boxed figureof a woman. Her wide eyed readily taking the relay, leads me on through a few strides to the end of the passageway. The corner clearing a modulated hallway,hearing the voice behind me echoing in my head, "Take a chair."

Cradling my little girl in my arms, I crossed the deserted middle leg hallway of a H-link. Butting sight against the distant blank wall decorated with familiar hazy green hollowed mesh in chain. Seated, my hands after her acrobatic to my shoulder, and bringing her back from over my arm. In the wait, increasing tolerant as she slithers through my hands to the floor. She crawls away, I fetch her back, until, mysterious and niggly, I turned my right cheek glimpsing along my shoulder I down the deserted passageway.

Watching in the direction of the chilly breeze, sketching an emergent wheelchair and upcoming, turned the nearby corner where the patient fetcher left the malformed boy. A cradle followed, and parked lateral pointing in diagonal toward the wall shadowy pair of double hallway doors. The children alone in my field of sight, in waiting became a fixation, the latter whining lonesome and frightful calls.

With a mounting frustration as I empathized, from the stressful watch over my little girl. Increasing difficult calming her kicking feet and wriggling from my grip fetching her. Time and again I returned to be seated, watching for another moment the abandoned children, and in my line of sight the far right call of theshadowy slit, opening turning the corner of my earlier arrival.

Poltergeist voices echoed louder from distant blind walls leaving to imagine a little crowd over lunch. Awaking like a breeze emerging from a mess room and

targeting the blind corridor. The call to the opening slit at emanating the pipe chattily and giggling voices for an imminent apparition. Two worlds apart, lackadaisical, a pair in white outfit appeared from the blind corner. Short behind trickled abreast another pair, bringing into view crossing the hallway the long awaiting staff members.

Like frolicking young women and men emerging from a boutique down main street swinging at hand stylish shopping bags of their purchases, to the gaze ofthe disadvantaged. An abusive attitude, extenuated, in wait mounting wrath, atdissociating their humorous prank in view of top rank medical nursing. I am thegloom reflection of their habitual sight of ill at ease patients. Without a flinch atreading my thought, They don't give a little consideration for those little children here in waiting! Worthy to wiped from sight, I feel transparent with my daughter and thechildren to see the quarto split up. Their seductive fanfare falls to a gradual silence nearing either of the pair of flash and blank doorways.

A couple out of the group, in time unable to differentiate either x-ray technician, or radiologist, than an evanescent leading male. In the wake of the opening door, the women swirls and calls over, "Sibylle!" In a hop, I am on my feet, targeting the doorway where the figures vanished. Instinctive led by the light of the doorway, into a space station interior. In the sparkling bright room, the woman hesitated in her step, on the way in diagonal across to the far corner glazed cubicle. Turning with an elementary school teacher exigent discipline, and voicing a few curt words, [Dutch] Undress her, bar the nappy. On my way to her pointed out change room door, I scrutinizing our whereabouts. By sight hurt a workshop hydraulic cylinder repair bench, of an apparent dual personality, in glossy white. The monster of an octagonal eyeballat a wrist of a giant dental robotic arms the shoulder attached to an overhead rail.

Respectfully, I eased the door close behind to an instinctive trapped sensation. Transmitted the animal perception and telepathic proper unprepared surprise, dissipate in smoke my held back wrath, advancing submissive in the foreign milieu. Despite spatial and light, my little girl's symbiotic zoo of the sky, refuted the claustrophobic vise, wrestling her jelly body out my arms. As I gripped her down my legs, coming to stand, she swings facing the door. Objecting, in a lung bursts, howling and dog pawing, the unyielding door, running out of energy sags exhausted to the floor.

Turning my back to the evanescent technician, cursing a driving wrath for the hospital staff who had entered into sight that day. Wasting my free time, failingmy little voiceless girl integrating the system. Make do, up I lifted my wild frustrated little bundle of joy, with pacifying words arouse a pedagogical tour. Nothing quieten her, until, my voice appears to pierce the shield of her mind, whipping the novice away.

Stepping out moments later, after undressing my baby in the alcove, and cradling her naked through the bright room. Sentient, of her mounting fear approaching the lone table perceivable for giant to lie down. Explaining the woman's earlier given instructions, while retrieving in the shadow of the man before her. In the deserted room, I trailed their presence to the tufts of dark-blond hair behind a series of panoramic sashes. Sealed off, the man's eyes on a

blind desktop, the woman gazing over the sill, exerting patience, a fixation following our every movement heading for the X-ray machine.

As I lifted the muscle crisping little figure, and my convoluted hands turned herto face me. Seeing her eyes, the machine turning in her head. Wrestling from lying down bathing in light. Unrelenting, glimpsing at the raised mechanical fly-eye of a lens on a head to toe rail. Her dread, at being seduced in the light of the ambulance roof to experience the emergent cloudy ring of ghostly faces looking down on her. With equal determination than coming out of coma, I insisted no further. Instead, sat her on the edge of the table. Lowered myself, slipping beneath her level of sight. Crouched, my hands guarding her involuntary wiggling hips, from slipping forward and off the edge. Looking up and fetching her eyesight. As she gazed down in my eyes, in a gentle apologetic voice, I said, Sunshine! The monster is only a camera.

By a glimpse over my left shoulder, I sought in the patient woman's eyes behind the glass, matter for moving words. Heave my little girl off the table, and seated her on my arm turning off in the direction of the cubicle. Studying my approach, came around by the right wall. At the open door, paused, and as amazed than my little girl by the consoles of the control panel. Twisted in the far seat, the woman lends us a startling gaze. Sentient of my baby draining stress, familiarized, I said, Sunshine! From here the man will see on the computer screen what is happening in your little head.

My little girl's pragmatic Virgo with a zodiacal symbiotic Chinese Dog, and giving character the associative Electra complex. Gradually, regained her lost trust. Eyes speaking her thoughts, Daddy's fingers piano the keyboard. Imagining the laptop screen which scrawl lines of characters, and the morphing images of a steering experience seated on her father's lap.

"They will take a photo, which will appear on screen, I said, and startled eyes associating a flash of light awakening memory of her mother's mischievous poise in front of a hand held camera. The onlooking patient woman, undecided watched the developing adventuring child. Sentient of my little girl's body feathery energy entering and filling my body. As one being, I turned around and stepped off. The X-ray machine in the distance, we approached. Seated on the edge, I said, "You are going to lay down," A hand hold her neck and gently inclining her. Her frightful eyed on the overhead metallic arsenal, I repeated forfear of rehearsing, You just keep still, and it will be over in a flash. Over the loudspeakers came the order, to turn her on her side, and flawless still, then onher other flank.

I was the proud father of a little lamb, and back in her room, the afternoon service of an ongoing change of faces, bringing the four-o'clock break of fruit compote. When incommode words, a messenger entering the room saying, [Dutch] The doctors had to reschedule patients. The other tests are for tomorrow." The following appearances, were serving up supper, clearing off, in time the reverberant living hospital walls seeming in a gradual evanescence, fell asleep. By ten o'clock left by a traumatic, the mind exhausted, Martine walked out the room, in a confusing sanity, said, "I'll go home, you can stay here with her."

Noon on that day out of the intensive care unit