Terror. My life in numbers

In about 2.5 weeks I will be back home in California after one year abroad. I'll arrive in the States the same day I left, a year later.

Don't you just love the symmetry?

Kinda like I'll see Jack, who I dated for 14 months, 14 months since the last I've seen him this coming September.

When I get back home I will have 7 days to get my shit together. Buy a new laptop, a new digital camera, a new cell phone and cell plan (btw, suggestions welcome--seriously), as well as buy myself a semi-new wardrobe, see my dentist, doctor and meet up with old friends and spend quality time with family.


Then, I'll have 5 days to move back up to Berkeley, get everything settled, and start a hard-core last year of classes.

No time for culture shock. Though, to tell you the truth, I am quite worried. Hopefully I'll be too busy to really feel it.

Then again, perhaps what's important is the process.

Last night I had a dream. Or rather, a nightmare.

The scariest thing I have ever "nightmared" in my life.

I've never been one for those death dreams--where you are about to die--or falling dreams, or even the flying dreams. I'm not a very good dreamer.

Last night I was terrified. So terrified that I woke up gasping for breath, my heart pounding, about to cry out. I wanted to call Jack because I was so scared, but I didn't want to wake or disturb him.

I don't remember the details of the dream so well, but the feelings I remember nearly crystal clear. They were so real. Too real. Even when I woke up, I thought I was still dreaming for a second...

I was standing or sitting in a room, talking to Jack. We seemed to be in this somewhat sterile white room, sort of resembling the spacecraft center for "Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy" I suppose. We were laughing and joking around...when I started to feel something very wrong start happening to me. But I couldn't identify what it was. My heart started beating hard. Very hard. Too hard. Too fast. And it started aching a lot. I tried telling Jack something was going on with me that was bad. Very bad. That I didn't know what it was. But it hurt. He was somewhat concerned, but lightly so. He laughed it off and kept joking. Then suddenly there was a flash, and I felt something ache like hell. I looked at my left hand and the skin on every single knuckle and parts of the hand itself looked torn, shredded, peeled and bloody. I just stared at my hand blinking. I couldn't believe it. Then the pain started up again. My heart was aching. The sound in my ears...now a rushing sound, and I could feel my lungs and every cell in my body swirling and pulsing. Way too hard. As if I were struggling to maintain consciousness. And I was. I tried telling Jack somewhat hysterically that something was wrong. Very wrong with me. That this was worse than usual. That it's never been like this before. But I don't think he realized, I don't even think he saw my hand. No one noticed and I felt myself distanced from the scene more and more, the pain internalizing everything. And then it was too late. I knew it was too late. I told him...and I could barely hear myself speaking as the blood rushed and rushed...my heart felt like it was nearly going to explode. Flecks of blood sprung up in front of my eyes in my field of vision or maybe on my eyes themselves. A circular dizziness took me over, and I knew it was all over. That I was going to die very soon. An all-encompassing terror filled me.

Then I woke up.

Trembling. Scared. Almost in tears.

Is this how I'm going to die? It was like a sickness. A psycho internal sickness suddenly took hold of me.

Someone once told me that when you dream and wake up before you die you continue living. But one day, you don't wake up when you dream that you are dying. Then you actually die. In real life.

In about 8 hours I go back to sleep. I don't know what it all means.

But I am frightened as hell.

No comments: