Am I dead?
Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, as I just did, and I feel as though there is no temperature in the world. It doesn't happen often; so far, I think only 3 times in my life. The first time was the worst, because it was new.
I was in the army barracks and someone several floors away was waking himself up for a jump with an Adam Sandler comedy tape played at obscenely loud levels.. With all of the twistings and turnings of the buildings, and Sandler's already howling brand of humor (aurally, not comically), it sounded like some souls being tortured in hell.
As I said above, my body felt as though it and the air were exactly the smae temperature, that either it was 98.9 degrees out (possible since it was North Carolina) or my body was incabaple of feeling anything ever again.
This would, of course be because I was no longer living on Earth, and had entered Hell. It was about three in the morning and I sat there in my room, dreading the ambivilance of not knowing.
Really, either could be true.
I woke Thomas, my roommate and asked him, "Am I alive?" He looked at me, thought for a few minutes, said "Yes" and went back to sleep.
I stayed up till dawn, but I felt better.
The second time, I was alone. I had no one to reassure me I was still alive. It was in Massachussetts, in December, so the absence of temperature was not as easily explained away. I was alone in a house with only my dog to comfort me. He wasn't afraid, so I used his courage (or lack of fear) to keep me calm until daylight.
Tonight, my wife and daughter are asleep in my bed. It might even have been my girl's kicking and fussing that woke me up. When my eyes opened, Mk was crawling over my chest and whimpering in frustration that I had no boob to offer her. J called her over and gave her what she wanted.
What yanked me out of bed was Mk's foot pressing against my kidney, and the feeling that I had a parasite, the size of a cantelope, attatched to my side. Even though I am up now, and my eyes show me how that is not true, I still feel that sick acid death. That there is no warmth, nor cold in the world. That my existence, while a continuing illusion for myself, is nothing but that and I will someday (soon, I fear) be yanked back to that street in Berkely, with the car that just hit me on its side, the EMT next to me, trying to save me, and the blood slowly seeping out of my kidneys.
I was in the army barracks and someone several floors away was waking himself up for a jump with an Adam Sandler comedy tape played at obscenely loud levels.. With all of the twistings and turnings of the buildings, and Sandler's already howling brand of humor (aurally, not comically), it sounded like some souls being tortured in hell.
As I said above, my body felt as though it and the air were exactly the smae temperature, that either it was 98.9 degrees out (possible since it was North Carolina) or my body was incabaple of feeling anything ever again.
This would, of course be because I was no longer living on Earth, and had entered Hell. It was about three in the morning and I sat there in my room, dreading the ambivilance of not knowing.
Really, either could be true.
I woke Thomas, my roommate and asked him, "Am I alive?" He looked at me, thought for a few minutes, said "Yes" and went back to sleep.
I stayed up till dawn, but I felt better.
The second time, I was alone. I had no one to reassure me I was still alive. It was in Massachussetts, in December, so the absence of temperature was not as easily explained away. I was alone in a house with only my dog to comfort me. He wasn't afraid, so I used his courage (or lack of fear) to keep me calm until daylight.
Tonight, my wife and daughter are asleep in my bed. It might even have been my girl's kicking and fussing that woke me up. When my eyes opened, Mk was crawling over my chest and whimpering in frustration that I had no boob to offer her. J called her over and gave her what she wanted.
What yanked me out of bed was Mk's foot pressing against my kidney, and the feeling that I had a parasite, the size of a cantelope, attatched to my side. Even though I am up now, and my eyes show me how that is not true, I still feel that sick acid death. That there is no warmth, nor cold in the world. That my existence, while a continuing illusion for myself, is nothing but that and I will someday (soon, I fear) be yanked back to that street in Berkely, with the car that just hit me on its side, the EMT next to me, trying to save me, and the blood slowly seeping out of my kidneys.
Labels: Biographical
posted by Jonah at 4:09 AM
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