Where?

168 14 1
                                    

Red and blue dots are everywhere. Everything is one big blur. I try to make out my surroundings and piece together what happened.
Based on the rough sheets and firm mattress that I can feel, I think I'm in a hospital. My vision gradually comes back to me. When I fully regain consciousness, I see my mom pacing back and forth on the opposite side of the room. She glances over at me and runs to envelop me into her arms around me. Her eyes are red and puffy when she makes eye contact. She says, " You scared me to death. I was so worried. Don't ever think about doing something like that ever again."
She gently strokes my hair and begins crying again. The gentle movement makes me drift back to sleep.
When I wake up, it's morning. I look around. Freshly painted frosted tulip walls, a pink and black bed, and seafoam green satin curtains on windows. I realize that I'm in my bedroom. I look at the outside world. The sun is shining, the sky is a brilliant blue, and birds are chirping happily. People are jogging, walking their dogs, and riding bicycles. Everything seems to be the same as all of the other 364 days. It's as if yesterday didn't even happen.
I grab my phone and check the time. It's 9:06. I'm late for school. I spring out of bed and brush my teeth and shower in 5 minutes.
I rummage through my closet, tossing clothes behind me and adding to the tornado in my room.
My clock on my nightstand goes off, telling me that it's 9:30. Crap. Finally, I just grab a top on top of my lamp and a pair of jeans off the floor. When I'm in the kitchen I realize that my mom isn't dressed for work. I ask her, "Mom, what are you doing in your robe? It's 9:30! " She replies "Today's Saturday". Her words slowly sink in to my mind.
I go back upstairs, too lazy to change and crawl back into my cocoon of solace.
What happened yesterday? The last thing that I remember was my mom crying while I lied in the hospital bed. My thoughts drift away as the light disappears and darkness takes over until there isn't a single trace of light left.

Subconscious ImaginationWhere stories live. Discover now