I can barely open my eyes. With all the strength I can muster, I open them slightly. It feels different. The back of my head is throbbing. I attempt to pick up my hand. However, I can not feel its existence. My eyes begin to close again. I struggle to keep them open but I fail miserably. Slowly I lose control and give in. Darkness steps right in.
I stir. I have no recollection of how long it has been. I recall no memory of where I am or how I got here. My eyes reject every message from my brain. Anyhow, I can feel my hands this time. My legs are far from straight. It feels like pressure from the heel end. I try to get up. I send an “I am ready” signal to my mind. My mind has a mind of its own right now and all my messages remain inaccessible to it. Post ignoring my impatience to stand up, I feel the competence to gradually open my eyes. The action is slow and draining but at the very least I’ll figure out where I am. Or so I hope.
I am positive minutes go by in my dismal attempts at opening my eyes. Several of these efforts resulting in my eyes just shutting, after barely opening into slits. Finally my struggle is fruitful. I look to place where I am. But it is too dark to put a finger on it. Not like I could pick one up even if I tried. I’m unable to even manage a laugh at my own bad jokes. Any movement just seems too much of a task. My eyes scan the view from this position I am in. It looks like I have landed myself in a hole. And a deep one at that. But I am a large man. How did I fit in a hole? Must be a darned pit.
Memories before these hours of black, come back to me, bit by bit. I had slipped out of my room for a run. They must have been digging something here and in the dark I didn’t notice to only fall right in. My head begins to throb more. The thought processes were aggravating it I guess. I feel the last thread of energy leave me as my eyes close and I go blank.
I can barely estimate how long it is before the light rays reach me in my new found place. They shine on me and I can feel the warmth spread through me. Steadily passing from my hands to legs, giving me the strength I need to be able to move them. Or that’s how it feels. I don’t feel cramped any more. My feet are able to move. I still feel weak but I have control over my limbs. Almost painlessly I open my eyes. A fan spins over my head, I can feel a mattress under me, a pillow cushioning my head and even a sheet over me… I sit up in the bed to realize I am in my room, in my bed. Safe and sound. I can’t even manage a sigh of relief because I don’t feel even an ounce of respite. I look around to find the curtains open and the sunlight welcoming me. Then it hits me, it was all a dream, a very real and traumatizing one. I step out of bed and my legs quiver almost giving way under the pressure of standing up. Apparently, I am still very shaken by it. Can I be blamed? It was all so dark and deep.
But strangely enough as I walk to my bathroom, with a little difficulty, I can remember every detail of it with precision. I wash my face with cold water to splash myself back to reality. Then I abruptly stop, with the tap still running, to see why it felt so real. Maybe because it is symbolic. Not just of my life, but every life at one point. It makes me wonder, if it is about knowing you need to wake up and snap out of it. Probably it is. Possibly, I just received my wake up call.