Becoming an Emperor
On diagnosis, I kicked away my reality controls and crashed into a hallucinatory fantasy which merged into the absolutely real. 300 years in the future I am Emperor no less, of Aotearoa New Zealand. The (platonic thank you) embrace of my sister. The more responsive embrace of my wife, this too. But the rest? Fantasy or fact? The grim judgement of the bathroom scales is that every single mouthful of wine, chocolate, and banana cake with lime flavoured icing was not the stuff of fantasy but rather, appallingly real.