warning for bodily functions and stuff. another warning that there's more to come, too. we'll talk about it more in the future – esp. w/ norway trip goming up.

That night, most thoughts have completely vacated your mind, save for one.

You don't have a passport.

Truthfully, you're too scared to tell Elsa, too. You could very easily text her or Olaf, but something stays your hand – least of all because, despite having a work phone, you've never had to use it outside of work. She'll probably decide it isn't worth it, running around in a panic to try and get one. She'll decide you don't need to come this time – you can do all the things she said next time, when you have a passport.

The thought is sad enough to make you cry as you're getting ready for bed. You've had your shower and you've gone to the bathroom, but you just kind of sit there and sob.

It's late by the time you manage to calm down and think rationally. You pull out your dreadfully ancient Netbook and wait for it to boot up before jumping onto the passports and travel website.

Apparently, you can get a passport within a few working days, provided it's lodged correctly. You just need to pay an extra fee. That's okay. You can pay it – actually, shouldn't you be paying for your whole passport?

Because, like, yeah, now you have actual money. But a lot of it goes to savings accounts that you don't have permission to touch. Emergency medical funds and 'rainy day' accounts. You probably won't be able to go out for lunch for a while, but that's okay. You can make some of your signature sandwiches and share them.

You shut the computer down, feeling the tension draining away at the same time. You can almost imagine Elsa's smile when you tell her your plan.

That's how you fall asleep.

You wake up sometime in the middle of the night. You're absolutely drenched in sweat, and your heart seems to be beating a thousand miles an hour, for absolutely no discernible reason. The flashing red numbers of your clock tell you that there's at least another four hours of sleep to gain, but you're actually feeling quite awake.

Joan is sleeping on your chair, and she's not very happy when you kick her off. May as well go to the bathroom while you're awake. You don't have a night-time schedule, mostly because you generally sleep all the way through. The streetlights filter through your windows, lighting the way to the bathroom. You have to prepare yourself before you turn the light on, because you know how bright it is.

You pull out a little bag from the drawer before washing your hands. You'll have to get more catheters before you go away – maybe a foley bag for the flight? Something to ask the doctor.

You lay everything out on the bench and shift to the toilet. You'd had to have the bathroom remodelled when you first bought the apartment because it was…not appropriate for your needs. But now there are bars and stools and it's all very convenient.

Grabbing a baby wipe, you clean yourself. Your heart gives a little lurch as the material slides easily, and suddenly your strange awakening makes sense.

Oh. Ohh…

You had a dream.

Biting your lip, you dispose of the wipe and prepare the catheter. You can think about it later (and oh boy will you think about it later). But it's really not good to be distracted while doing this. You've been tract-infection-free for almost four months, and you don't wanna break that record.

Adding the lubricant to one end, you place the other one into the bowel. You used to hate this part, but it got easier – and when you have to do it four times a day, you get pretty good, pretty quick.

Gently, you use a finger to find the urethra. The catheter slides in easily for the first few inches, but as always, there's a fight to get it into your bladder. But, eventually it goes in, and all you have to do is sit there. Wiggle it occasionally. This is the best bit because it isn't actually work.

The cath goes into the bin when you've finished with it. You've thought about getting reusable ones, but they never seemed to clean properly. You were on antibiotics for weeks the last time you tried. Never again.

You wash your hans and wipe yourself again, and by the time you get back to your bed, you feel like you could have just stayed there and fallen back asleep. Joan has taken up residence on your pillow, but she isn't quite as grumpy. She snuggles you for a few seconds before buggering off, but it still brings a smile to your face.

You spend the next few minutes of wakefulness praying that you'll return to the same dream you left.