Hieronymous Bosch Diorama

How did my life become a Hieronymous Bosch diorama?
How did I become surrounded by horrors on all sides?

a terrarium of hell

I finally slept a little this morning but I had grim nightmares in which my beloved baby brother was in danger, and then a woman who was in a catastrophic storm had escaped the floods and winds and reached her rooftop, but then a shaking earthquake came and swept her into the raging debris filled waters. I tried to stay in the dream long enough for a rescue attempt to be successful.

When I awake, the news is filled withe tornados.
The south east has been devastated and hundreds of people are dead.
A tornado a mile wide.

I go to see Dr. Ponti.

I still adore her.

But that does not change the fact that I am on Day 9 of severe head pain, that my lab results show anemia and a few anomalies but nothing hugely revealing, that while there I will be subjected to the smell of my own burning flesh, and that I will leave with a paper sheet on instructions for wound care.