~ an imagined nightmare ~
I felt my body before I ever opened my eyes. I was tired, achy, from long days of work multiple days in a row. I didn’t want to get up, didn’t want to move, didn’t want to rip off my covers and start another long day. But I had to.
Still, I could snooze, just a little bit.
I pulled my covers tight to my face, curled my body in, and…
Nothing. Where was it?
My eyes shot open. I tried again.
Nothing. Tension came to my neck.
I sat up, the cold air of the winter morning less shocking then normal.
I tried to speak, tried to say something, anything.
Nothing. Again. Nothing.
My hands went to my throat. Tears filled my eyes. I cried, but I couldn’t wail. I tried to yell, but there was no sound over my breath, no utterance except air.
I stumbled out of bed, tripped towards my door, and found it locked. I banged my hand against it. I pulled, wrenched at the doorknob.
Nothing. I slammed my fists against the wood. I silent screamed til my throat was raw, then slowly I slid down to the floor.
I curled into a ball again, my tears slipping sideways across my face, pooling on the hardwood.
I silently whimpered. I quietly wailed. I cried.
I closed my eyes.
And then I awoke in my bed, tense, exhausted, and alarmed. I took a deep breath. And I hummed, the soothing way I always hum when I’m waking from or slipping to slumber.
And the world was okay again.
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