stream of unconsciousness

On the bus yesterday I was sitting across from a woman who probably has some form of schizophrenia. She boarded the bus and sat next to a woman who was on her way to work. She began to talk and I began to write down what she was saying in the back of my book, Psychotherapy Grounded in the Feminine Principle. Here is what followed:
"My name is Teri. At 17 I robbed three banks with Patty Hearst. Patty sits on the end of my bed knitting and follows me to the bathroom. I tell her to leave because I can't go when she is in there and she waits for me outside the door. She doesn't like to be away from me. I write poetry and read the Psalms. Not all of my poetry is original but no one knows that. I think about Patty all the time. I wonder how she is. She should put on something that is lime green and orange. She spent 45 days in the closet. She liked me. I am not sure why, but she did. He's kind of an elaborate person. Fans, lamps, TVs, VCRs in his house. My birthday was in November and my party was a big deal. So how are you, Penny? Tvs and stereos are on. I'm never going out there again. Caroline, my cousin, came all the way out from West Seattle to Ballard to see me. I'm getting off here."
And she got off the bus. It was as much poetry as it was the monologue of a woman who is rather ill. Her face lit up when she talked about Patty Hearst. She loves her and does wonder about her, I think. I wish I could arrange a meeting between the two. I think it would mean a lot to Teri.