Sprawled on the cold tile floor in the hospital room, you watch the changing colors on the triangular panel on the AC through almost-shut eyelids, colors that change with the temperature. That rush of red in the darkness is a monarch’s room rich in drapes , ornate gold bordering on the classic and a step away from ostentatious. The beam slowly changes to a quiet lilac, the Eiffel lit against a velvet black sky for new years, no doubt. The room gets gradually colder and one draws the sheet closer. In time a purple glow descends, quiet and serene, like a bronze Buddha worshipped with candles and somber chants at a far away monastery in the distant snow clad mountains. You are closer to sleep now, and just about notice the green from the edges of a memory lined consciousness, a vast field in a hundred shades of green with tiny yellow blooms, stretching as far as the eye can see, with sunshine playing hide and seek… sleep descends, and you drift off, only to awaken in the middle of the night, a questioning disquiet, and you remind yourself of his will, and surrender.