[Mary's been unconscious for about nine hours now since the infection flared up and she started slipping away. There's little going on in her head save confused scraps of dream whenever her brain flirts with REM sleep, but this- this is lasting longer. There's something consistent to it: a bench, a park she went to as a child, where her mother and sometimes even her father would sit and watch her play in the playground. She finds herself on the swing-set looking around confusedly, taking in the too-green leaves of a maple from before Samuel decided playing was a want, not a need.]
(Thursday: dream/closed to Raphael.)