//------------------------------// // Chapter 52: Weak Steps // Story: Through Crimson Eyes // by Level Dasher //------------------------------// “How do your hind legs feel on the floor? It’s been awhile since you’ve done any walking, hasn’t it?” “Yeah. They feel kinda weird, but I can stand on them.” “That’s good. Now come, small steps forward.” The physical therapist didn’t waste any time. I’d just finished my milk, washed down with another small cup of water. Everything seemed to be sitting well. That was a good sign. I’ve never liked slow recovery. Sure, my hind legs felt a little weak, but I could walk normally. The clamped tube didn’t weigh me down, either— whatever that clip was made of was obviously really light. I didn’t want to annoy the therapist, though, so I took a few small steps toward the door where she led me. “Good, good! How does the pressure feel? How is the clamp?” she asked. “Both fine. I don’t need to walk this slowly,” I said, smirking, taking a few quicker steps forward. “Now hold on there— we want you to start slow,” she began. “…but I see that look of determination in your eyes. If you really feel that confident, and you think you have the strength, do you think you can take a lap around the floor with me? I’ll take care of your IV pole.” It sounded like a challenge. The Oncology floor was pretty big, but I felt like I could handle it. “Let’s do it,” I said, continuing my path to the door. About a third of the way around the floor, we passed by Blackhawk’s old room. Another pony was in there now— it had been over three months already. I snuck a glance through the glass; it looked like a little filly was in the bed, taking a nap. I sighed; it still didn’t seem fair. I’ve tried not to dwell on it, though. I’ll never forget him or Stripes, but what happened, happened, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I held back a sniffle, then shook my head and kept walking. Fortunately for me, I was right. My legs felt alright walking around the floor. As I came around the final corner to get back to my room, I smiled. This physical therapy was going to be a snap. As I walked through the door, Mom smiled. “Ah! He hath returned from his adventures!” “Oh hush, Mom,” I replied. Leaning against the side of my bed, I shook out my hind legs a bit. They did feel a bit weak, but I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. I had just made a full lap around the floor, and I hadn’t walked in over a month. As I got ready to hop back in bed, there was a knock at the door right at the usual time. I changed my mind and got back on all fours as I called, “Come on in, Tess,” wearing a smirk. “Hey! How are yo— OMIGOSH! You’re out of bed! And is that—” She glanced at my lower left side where the remainder of the G-tube sat clamped next to my gut. “I’m a couple weeks late, but happy birthday,” I said with a smile, holding my forearms open. “You do still need to be careful, though.” She rushed toward me, but true to my instructions, she stayed on my right side, away from the tube, and gave me a hug around my neck while I hooked an arm around her barrel. “Sorry I can’t give you anything more, but I’ve been a little… well, stuck.” “Oh be quiet, silly!” she answered, giving me a peck on the cheek. “All I wanna see is you getting better! And obviously you are! Best birthday gift ever!” I chuckled. “Good to hear. Gimme another couple weeks, and I just might be outta here. Hopefully I’ll be back in time for school to start.” “I still can’t believe you kept up with schoolwork while you were in here. Did Miss Turner seriously come here and give you a test?” “Well, kind of,” I answered. “She came and went over the basics of everything you guys went over in class to see if I got the gist of everything, and I did. The worksheets you and Starry gave me definitely helped.” Tess shook her head and smiled. “You really are amazing, you know that? How do you manage all of this and still keep a cool head?” I hooked my forearm around her neck and gave her a light peck. “My friends help keep me in line.” Her face flushed, and she gave me a tight hug. I glanced over my shoulder at Mom and Gramma, sitting by the window. Both of them just smiled and nodded at me. I guess I’ve learned well… Thank Luna, my luck was finally starting to turn. Just waiting a month for my intestines to heal had been torture. Even though school was out, I'd told Starry and Tess they didn't need to be at the hospital with me all day every day. That would've been ridiculous. Unfortunately, that meant I slept so much during the day sometimes that I had bouts of insomnia. My best nights usually came when I tried lulling myself to sleep just by staring out at the sky, even without using my telescope. Those were the nights I later found myself with my full mane. It took awhile, but after numerous tries, I finally learned how to get myself lucid at will. One or two practice sessions with Princess Luna over that month helped me tremendously. Eventually, I could create dreams of my own with ease. Sometimes I would spend time with Dad, others I’d play with Blackhawk and Stripes, or hang out with Starry and Tess—sometimes just Tess—or occasionally stare at the stars with my own figment of Princess Luna. Princess Luna herself found me in one of my stargazing dreams one night, and congratulated me on how well I’d picked up the technique. She said it was the fastest she’d seen anypony nearly master lucid dreaming. Unfortunately, it was that same dream that almost ruined the ability for me… Looking at my own figment of Princess Luna, and then speaking to the real one, I realized how different they were. It just wasn’t the same as being with the real thing. I didn’t want to say anything to her, but I voiced my disappointment to Starry and Tess the day after. “I mean, I get where you’re coming from, dude, but still, making up your own dreams must be so cool!” Starry said. “Don’t get me wrong. I love being able to make up the things I want to see—especially my dad—but it’s just that… well, when I’m lucid, I know that none of it is real. It used to be that when I had nice dreams, when I didn’t know they weren’t real, I really enjoyed them… and then I’d wake up. But now, when I’m lucid, I already know I’m dreaming, and I know that what I’ve made up is just my own imagination. Like, when I dream about you guys, I’d rather be spending time with the real you. It doesn’t always bother me, but some nights I just don’t enjoy them as much. On some of those nights, I just… well, I’d rather stay awake.” I rested my head in my hooves. “But you need your sleep, Crimson. It’ll help you heal,” Tess told me. “I know,” I sighed. “But when I’m lucid… well, nothing is ever as it seems. And I know that. Sometimes a boring reality is better than an exciting fantasy, even if it isn’t. That probably doesn’t make any sense…” I think some minor depression finally came to light that day after my third scan had said I wasn’t done healing yet. Waiting was taking its toll. Looking back on it, it’s not surprising that I would have felt crummy, even about my favorite ability. I haven’t thought that way again, though— after I finally got that conversation off my chest, I created another dream with Dad that night, and any negative thoughts I’d had about lucidity melted away. I think I’ll be creating some really nice dreams the next few days, especially now that I can finally take the next step to recovery. Maybe I’ll tell Dad the good news first…