Delirious
The
beep is low and slow. One long drawn out note that seemingly disappears into
the air the longer it continues. Why doesn’t
someone just unplug the damn machine? I think to myself. I am then utterly
baffled by the voice inside of head. It echoes and reverberates through my
skull as if there is nothing but empty space between my left ear and the lobe
of my right. Confused, I figure it is
just the obnoxious beeping getting to me, increasing the volume of my
thoughts.
I quickly exit the
room and enter into a bright hallway full of bustling people. Everyone has a
purpose and a place to be. It feels as though I’m walking down a crowded sidewalk
in New York City. Nobody makes eye contact with the others in their path, and
it seems like the only important thing to each individual is keeping a steady
pace in order to reach their final destination in a timely manner. This is fine
with me I guess. I put my head down like everyone else; hands in my pockets,
and stare at my knock off Steve Madden combat boots as I trudge further down
the hallway.
I need to find my
mom. I know I came here with her but where did she wander off to? Usually that
woman, “Karen” as her friends like to call her, is so unbelievably saturated in
Beyonce’s “Midnight Heat” body spray that the only technique needed to hunt her
down is to start sniffing. So that is exactly what I do. I pick up a sugary
whiff as I round a corner toward the end of the hallway. I turn and encounter
two, large double doors. Using every ounce of my power, I shove them and burst
through to the other side. Although it felt like I had put my all into this
process, I glance back and the doors appear to be as tightly sealed as they were
when I was on the other side. Oh well. That was the least of my concerns. Back
to my German Sheppard-esque strategy of detecting Karen.
The sweet smell is
growing stronger. Following my senses reminds me of hot and cold; a game I used
to indulge in with the neighborhood kids before reaching high school. Before
every kind of game was ruled ‘un-cool’ unless it involved alcohol or members of
the opposite sex. The rush of vanilla is
overwhelming! I see a cafeteria in front of me. Could the scent be from some
sort of lunch lady’s concoction or was that my mother? It never hurts to check
I suppose.
I walk into the
large room. It consists of tables and chairs to the left, and to the right there
forms a long line of people holding trays while simultaneously waiting to be
slopped a lukewarm pile of mystery meat. Seated in the chairs, and forming the
line’s composition, are average looking people of every age, race and gender imaginable.
There is something odd about all of them though. They look tired. There is deep
worry behind their eyes.
I scan the room
until finally I spot her. Mrs. Karen
Johnson is sitting to the left in the back corner of the completely linoleum
dining hall. The fluorescent lights make the bags under her eyes look as though
they are about to burst out of her skull.
The same worried look falls behind her gaze, but other than that she
looks completely detached. The emotion center of her brain may as well be
switched off. She holds a cup of coffee in her hands, which has obviously gone
cold. It lacks steam and as I began to walk closer I can tell it has hardly
been sipped.
“Mom!” I yell as I
draw closer. My voice sounds like I am underwater, but that can only be blamed
on the acoustics in the sprawling room I’m sure. She does not look up from her
coffee. I don’t believe she heard me.
“MOM.” I keep
yelling. She looks up slowly as though she hears me, but her worried expression
is still blank. Her stare cuts through my body like glass. With that look, the
harmful realization that she doesn’t see me either starts to sink in. I flail
my arms, scream, and make a scene but it’s as though nobody knows I’m there. I am invisible to the world and I don’t know
why.
I attempt to cry
but tears don’t come. Normally in an upsetting situation like this my breathing
becomes rapid and almost uncontrollable, but now my chest doesn’t even move.
What is happening? Where am I? The cafeteria begins to spin and my vision goes
blurry. Suddenly the brightest flash of light I have ever seen stabs at my
corneas, and everything goes black.
The beep is low
and slow. Beep… Beep… Beep… My eyes open and I am surrounded by men and women
all wearing white coats. I see the blurry outline of my mother’s silhouette as
my eyes adjust to the light. I hear whispers from the crowd of colorless coats.
It’s a miracle.
How in the world?
My mother bursts
into tears as she stares to directly into my eyes. “You’re alive! My baby is
alive!”
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