Tequila/Monk

Waking up in a hospital

November 24, 2014

From what my friends say (and don’t say), I’ve come to realize that my nights are not like other people’s nights. This morning’s story:

I wake up at 3:40am, hearing something dripping. I follow the sound around the new apartment until I find that it’s coming from the refrigerator. I look around, and there’s no water on the floor, inside the refrigerator compartment, or in the freezer. I guess this is what it sounds like when it defrosts. I have a sip of water and go back to bed.

Some time later I wake up again. It’s bright, so I don’t want to open my eyes. I’m enjoying a comfortable rest, and the pillow and sheets smell fresh and clean.

Wait.

Why is so bright? The Sun rises on the opposite site of the apartment building, and I only get indirect light in my bedroom.

Without moving, I open my eyes and look around. I’m in a hospital.

What the hell is going on?

I begin to panic. I try to get up, but I’m struggling to move.

A nurse is nearby and realizes I’m awake. She asks me to calm down.

“What’s going on? Why am I in a hospital? How did I get here?”, I ask, but she keeps telling me to calm down, and starts to get help from other nurses. I don’t even know if I said those words or just tried to say them.

I try to stop panicking. “Think, think, think,” I say to myself. “How did I get here?”

I think back. I remember, I was in an office working, when my boss from 1991 walked in and asked if my dad was looking for project work. He told me to find out and let him know, saying that he had some work for him. Then he walked into his office.

Then three animals the size of deer walked into the room from a doorway in the other direction. While they were as big as deer, they moved slow, more like moose, and their skin was a rainbow of dark pastel colors, with purple, orange, blue, and other hues. They were also amazingly friendly, like huge dogs. They’d walk up to me with big, friendly eyes, and they smiled as I petted their heads.

I could have just stayed in the room with them, but I was curious where they came from, so I went back in the direction they came from. Walking through a doorway I came to two beings who looked like humans, but were colored like the animals. I went to shake the hand of one being but he stopped me and said, “We greet each other differently here.” He showed me a different hand gesture where you fold your fingers closed over your palm and gently touch the other person’s hand rather than shaking it. It tingled a little.

This process gave me an opportunity to study his hand and skin. His fingers are much longer than an Earth person’s fingers. It’s hard to describe his skin. It’s like the skin of a reptile or maybe an elephant, but it isn’t as hard as I expect it to be. I can’t see any hair on his skin, and I don’t recall any hair on the animals, either.

I want to ask him some questions, but someone yells from the door behind him that one of my dogs has gotten out. “Excuse me,” I say, and run out the door behind them. My dog has gotten on the wrong side of a fence in some open fields down a hillside, and can’t get back to where he should be, and it looks like he’s starting to panic. I will myself down to that area in an instant, pick him up and carry him over the fence.

"That's the last thing I can remember," I think to myself, "holding Zeus." But those were all dreams of some sort, this is real. The last real thing I can remember is the refrigerator dripping.

“Why am I here?”, I demand to the nurse. “How did I get here? What am I doing here?” I struggle harder until I suddenly wake up in my own bed.

I haven’t moved. I’m still laying on my side, with the sheets over me, my left arm tucked under the pillow, my right arm next to it. But I know I can’t lay here long. “Barf bag,” I think to myself.

I throw the sheets off, roll over, reach on the floor for the barf bag, pick it up, and sit up. I’m shaking uncontrollably, as usual. I wrap my arms around my stomach. “I hate this part,” I mutter to myself. I look at the clock. It’s 5:41am.

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