My hand quivered as I forced
the cigarette to my mouth and then relaxed as the nicotine surged through my
bloodstream. The doom no longer grappled me and struggled to grab my throat and
squeeze it. I could hold it at bay and postpone my insanity for a while longer.
“James you need to let it
out. That is the best way to fight it. Explain whatever you feel comfortable
with.”
Fluttering my eyes, I spoke:
“It all started two days ago. I was unable to sleep till 2 in the morning,
something that has never happened before. I could hear a baby screaming my
name, begging me to help him survive. I was scared. For the first time in my
life, I was afraid. I shut my eyes tightly, and tried to force myself to sleep,
when I felt movement outside the door. I could see the shadow of a man, who
banged the door. I tried calling up the first
name that came to mind, but my phone was dead. I could feel the fear consuming
me, you know what I mean? After another hour, I thought it had all stopped, but
I heard a strange, melancholic music. It was scary. OH GOD, WHY AM I TELLING
YOU ALL THIS?”
“I am here to help you James. What you are going through is not uncommon, I
have dealt with people who had begun to see and hear things. Please continue
when you feel up to it.”
“I… woke up next morning miserable. It was hard, but I got dressed and left for
work, promising myself I will undergo therapy. I was walking through St. George
lane two blocks from here. It was a rainy day and the lane was dark. I could
feel the fear returning. I jogged down the lane, feeling as though someone was
chasing me. Suddenly, someone grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back. He had cold
blood red eyes, as though he was sent by Satan. All he said was “Wake up. You
need to wake up. This is not real.” Then he turned back and was gone,
DISAPPEARED INTO THIN AIR LIKE….. I was terrified then. I screamed in the
middle of the alley, screaming for help, begging someone to come, but no-one
came. I couldn’t take it anymore. I went straight back home, trying to call my
dad but he didn’t pick up the phone. I felt like a child who was scared of
shadows and darkness. I wanted to hide anywhere, anywhere at all. As I reached
the street across my house, fog had enveloped the entire area. I stumbled and
crossed the road. But just as I walked up to my doorstep, a child of four or
five with pure white skin and the same red eyes grabbed my clothes and
whispered: “You are in a coma. Wake up. This is NOT REAL.”
Still staring at me, he walked backwards, and I saw him melting into the fog. I swallowed sleep pills as soon as I reached
home and slept through the night. This morning I ran up to your office and now
I am here.”
“Now, I believe you have heard the phrase acceptance is the first step to
recovery.
You have begun to…. Daydream
because of something you have been dealing with over the past few days. We
therapists call it hallucinations. Your descriptions ascertain my theory.
However, those two people you described; apart from their features, the way you
described them seemed very real indeed. I want you to take this medicine. It
will help you calm your nerves. Whenever you feel you are beginning to
hallucinate, just swallow this. Now I suggest you hurry back to your house,
take the sleeping pills you have, and sleep through the night. I promise you
will be better by tomorrow. But do nothing else. Go straight to your car and
drive home. Do not stop anywhere. We will discuss the cause…”
She suddenly stopped talking and looked towards him. Her eyes were rolled over
and her nails had turned into claws. Cackling, she got up and walked towards
me, but I ran. I ran out of the office and jumped into my car, locking the
doors to prevent anyone from entering. Two shivers ran through me and I threw
up. I knew now what was happening. This was not hallucination. “THE THERAPIST
HERSELF WAS PART OF THE DREAM.” I shouted and screamed till my throat could
bear it no-more. I resolved to stay in the car that night. No matter what
happened, I would not move out. I had the pills. I started the engines and moved
away from that office as fast as I could.
“I will stay here tonight. I
will survive tonight and then go to my parents’ tomorrow.”
“Oh you will, will you?”
I lost control of my mind there. I was a broken man, wrecked by the World that
I lived in. I could see the therapist sitting in the back of my car, with blood
red eyes and a pure white skin as she whispered in my ear: “You need to wake
up. We are waiting for you. This is not real. WAKE UP.”
I was no longer a man, I was an animal, a monster, driven to the edge of sanity
and pushed ahead. The veins in my head acquired a blue hue as they pumped blood
into a body that had no meaning. My eyes were covered by a thin film of water,
and my skin paled. I could see a gun lying in the seat beside me. The presence of
the gun brought me back. This would be the final test. The last straw. If the
gun was real, then I was in a coma, and if it was intangible, I would be
hallucinating. My hands shook uncontrollably as they reached out for the gun. I
grabbed it and put it against my forehead. It was all true. I had been in a
coma and had fought for my life and won. It was time to go back to where I
belonged. My finger tensed, and the trigger slowly pulled back, releasing the
bullet that pierced my forehead. I collapsed, waiting for Satan to claim my in
this World and send me back.
My life flashed before me,
taunting me to grab it and embrace the welcoming arms of life again. And yet, I
was veiled from the opportunity, being laughed at for being weak, for taking
the easier way out. One final, yet powerful thought grazed across my mind,
perhaps I was not in a coma.
Perhaps…. “However, those two
people you described. Apart from their features, the way you described them
seemed very real indeed.”
Perhaps… “I want you to take this medicine. It will help you calm your nerves.
Whenever you feel you are beginning to hallucinate, just swallow this.”
Perhaps… someone wanted me dead.
A half smile was etched on my
face as the relief of dying took its toll and my eyes softly closed as the
final drops of life seeped from my outstretched fingers, merging me with those millions
who had already been claimed and restlessly awaited to be forgiven.
“To the brave, Death is but, the next
Adventure.”
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