I awoke some time later feeling completely wretched. I was still wearing the same clothing I had worn the previous day and my eye felt sore. I rolled over and looked at my clock. The time said it was almost noon. I could scarcely believe I had slept so late. I usually did not sleep longer than six or seven hours. I chalked it up to the stress of the previous night and pushed myself from the bed. My mouth tasted awful, so I stripped off my dirty clothing and dumped it into the laundry basket as I walked straight to the bathroom. I turned on the water. A bit of toothpaste squirted onto a brush and I was in business.
While I brushed my teeth, I did not bother to turn off the water. While I listened to the sound of it running and sloshing around the sink, I stared at my own reflection. My reflection stared back through tired hazel eyes. Messy, mid length brown hair hung on either side of the face.
I scrunched up my hair behind my ears and spit and rinsed my mouth. I splashed water on my face, hoping to rinse away the gauntness that had developed there during the night. I could not help but replay everything that had happened. It had only been hours ago, but my memories already seemed as if they had been covered by a light veil that blurred the events and made them seem surreal. I checked my neck in the mirror and saw that the skin appeared smooth and unbroken.
Had everything been just a strange and terrible dream? I looked at my hands and rubbed my knees. They felt fine, not at all like I had tripped in a forest the previous night. My eye did hurt, but maybe I had just jabbed myself in the eye while I was sleeping the night before and incorporated it into my dreams. It made more sense. In the real, normal world strangers might accost women, but it was not to simply bite them.
I grabbed on to the comforting idea that everything had been a dream with enthusiasm. I had probably just been working too hard, I told myself sternly. I knew I tended to get too caught up in things and this time I had been putting too much energy into my goal. Since I had walked out the door of my father's house I had desired nothing more than to survive and succeed without him. Perhaps it would be beneficial to my peace of mind and to my eventual success to take a break occasionally.
Clearly, what had happened was I had been so exhausted I had no memory of returning home and fell asleep in my clothing. It could naturally happen to anyone. I ignored the small voice which pointed out the possible inconsistencies in my thoughts, which told me to inspect my discarded clothing before I made up my mind. I pushed that thought aside and told myself I simply needed to take regular breaks for my health. I glanced at the calendar. I had to work that evening at the coffee shop. A quick calculation told me that I needed money more than I needed a break.
My life during the next ten weeks was much the same as it had been before the dream incident with the creepy stranger and the mysterious Paul, except I now had a tendency to think back to the very incident I wanted to forget at the most inconvenient times. Not an incident, but rather a dream, I reminded myself strictly every time my mind strayed in that direction. And, even if, in the very unlikely event it had been real, there was no reason to feel bothered by it. It was not a big deal, no reason to feel traumatized or any other such nonsense. I did not have time to be bothered by something so ridiculous. It had only been a very realistic dream so it did not signify at all. It was so insignificant I should not even have to remember not to remember it.
Yet I did remember it, in spite of my best and obsessive efforts to the contrary. I remembered it with annoying frequency. I felt fine. There was nothing on my neck to suggest anything had ever happened to me. Even the eye I had stabbed—in my sleep, no doubt—had not been a serious injury. I kept busy following my routine, going to work, going to class, budgeting my money with an iron fist and staying up late studying. Nothing was out of the ordinary whatsoever. Besides the memories of the insignificant dream incident, everything was blessedly ordinary. Just the way I wanted it.
Time flowed on until it was actually the third month anniversary of the non-incident. I was annoyed to realize I had noticed as if it had some import on my life. I got up early and worked a short shift, then went to my Friday afternoon class. My habit was to go to grab a sandwich, then go to the library. I did not deviate from my usual course of action and soon found myself working on a paper using the library computer lab.
The computers were always in high demand and the one I had managed to procure was old. It ran slowly and there were long delays between loading pages. That was probably the reason it had last been vacant. Perhaps the previous user died of old age.
I printed off a few articles and began to type my paper. I wished I had a computer, but I just could not justify the cost. Tuition, rent, and food were all higher priorities. I did not have anyone I wanted to ask for help, so I would be stupid to waste money on something I could use for free at the library.
I had just realized I had been daydreaming when the first wave of dizziness hit me. I felt nauseous for a few seconds and I could feel shivers roll up my back. The world teetered and then disappeared completely in a wave of black.
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