Last night I dreamt of an autistic man. Maybe he was me and I was him. It's always hard to tell in dreams. But the point was this. He was crazy, unacceptable, dangerous even, when squeezed into the societal shirt that is required. He would burst buttons, rip fabric, all the while tearing his own hair out. Tortured by the beauty and power that resided underneath.
Then we let him out. Unbound him from the expectations and unnatural contortions we asked him to conform to. Released to be who, and what, he was. And it was magical.
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