1:30am

I wish I could film this, it's so beautiful like a ballet of hands.
The room is silent. One arm reaches out over the bedrail. In slow motion. He waggles his fingers as if he's gathering up slow flying fireflies and when his hand is full he slowly and gracefully transfers them to his other hand. Then he reaches out again to gather some more. He's not frightened and I wish I knew what he was seeing.
Earlier in the day he commented that the "tenant" who lived here before him must have fancied himself a writer because he's written all over the walls. I ask him what it says but he can't quite make it out. He doesn't understand why I can't see the writing and thinks that maybe if I take a picture of the wall I'll be able to see the writing.
Later he sees ants crawling all over the same wall.
The doctor tells me in the morning that the hallucinations are caused by the steroids he's been given to keep his brain from swelling.