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I have one of my dreams.

Not this one. He liked smacking people around. Considering the fact that he was six feet seven inches tall and weighed three hundred and forty pounds, that made him quite dangerous. Even the nurses and security guards were afraid of him. Well, one day he came after me. I defended myself as best as I could with a plastic knife. He ended up maimed. For life. Not my fault. I tried to reason with him but the bastard wanted to strangle me. It was self-defence, alright? Yep. Guess what the evil bitchy nurses did? They called security on me and put me under round-the-clock watch. Every eight hours the security guard shifts changed. The first person who guarded me was a mean little Hispanic woman. The second guard was a tall white guy with a crew cut who called me a psycho bitch. I slapped him so hard my hand hurt. The third security guard was none other than Christopher. He was stunned to discover that I was the person he'd been assigned to watch. I looked at him and shrugged.

Christopher was visibly troubled by the fact that he had to guard me. He'd guarded a hundred patients in the mental ward, just never anyone he knew personally or had befriended. I was happy to see him, though. Finally someone would hear my side of the story. I told Christopher what happened and he believed me. The poor guy. He was extra nice to me that night. He let me walk wherever I wanted, and even got me a magazine. A copy of Elle Canada, with a picture of my favorite Canadian singer on the cover. I shared some of my apple juice with Christopher, and we talked. The nurses came, and chastised him for talking to me and being way too nice. He stood up to them. I was stunned. I had no idea he would stand up to them on my behalf. The exasperated head nurse called the security guards downstairs and asked that Christopher be replaced. Before he left, Christopher wrote his cell phone number and email address in the magazine he gave me. I discreetly put it away. Then his fellow security guards asked him to leave, and a chubby white guy in a security uniform replaced my good friend Christopher. I was crestfallen. I sure hope Christopher didn't get himself in trouble over me. It's always the nice guys who pay the price, you know?

I spent two more months inside the mental ward. I told the doctors and nurses what they wanted to hear so I could get released. As soon as I got out, my first stop was to access a computer. I looked Christopher up on Facebook. There he was, my tall, dark and handsome African-American stud. My hero. I sent him a friend request. He replied almost right away. How cool was that? I told him that I was a free woman. He came to pick me up. We went to a Tim Horton's restaurant and chatted. My favorite guy in the world sat me down and we talked for hours. I'm serious, man. We walked into the restaurant at noon and left at three! Christopher helped me with a lot of stuff afterwards. He helped me talk to my old landlord. Since I always paid two months in advance, he forgave the fact that I was away for so long. I still had my apartment! Of course, the place hadn't been cleaned in months. Luckily, my dog Marquis had been taken in my friend Elisabeth Wong, a chubby Asian gal from the City of Calgary, Alberta. Slowly, I began to put my life back together. I had an incomplete in my sociology classes at the University of Ottawa. I had a lot of work to catch up on as I signed up for the second semester. With Christopher helping me, I felt like I could do anything.

A month after I was released from the Ottawa mental hospital, I was doing well.

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