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Before I Wake

It feels as if though I am finally awake; as if the world has finally materialized before me and my life has now begun. Although everything is unclear, as if my eyes are not yet used to vision, I am able to make out my surroundings. What I see, however, makes no sense to me. Before this novel sensation of sight, I could only touch and feel my way around. Grabbing out at what was within my grasp was fun but this new ability is even better.

I find it hard to describe what is before me, but it moves as I move my hand and  its movement mirrors that of my own. Sudden flashes of light pass by, and now that I can see, I see glimpses of bright scarlet red with just a hint of the deepest black. But the most astonishing and puzzling part of all this is how the colours morph and change as if I were in a state of continuous motion. The rise and fall of the light and the colors that follow, make me think that I am in steady pursuit of them.But do I even move? I wonder.

All this is very exciting, I learn something new every day.  But how do I know all this? How do I learn? Lately, I have begun thinking a lot, what else can I do? For I seem to have all the time in the world. Time. I can now perceive the passing of days and nights, the slow creeping of the long and weary months; the brightness of summer mornings and the bleak emptiness of the winter evenings. These feelings, however, are not consistent, the experiences, new, each day.

But what is consistent is the deep sleep that takes a hold of me, as if it were a shroud that completely envelops me each day. What comforts me about it is that I am familiar with it, so familiar, that each day I welcome it with open arms. The excitement of each coming day leaves me thoroughly drained and the sweet relief of the slumber which engulfs me is more than welcome. Sleep does not only help me regain the energy I need to start a new lesson each day, it also brings back to me the oldest feeling I can remember.Before I could think, I could dream.

I dream of so much that I can no longer remember, as if my memory just spans the time it takes from one dream to the other. This fills me with fear; Why have I forgotten my fondest memories? It seems to me that with each passing day I gain a new ability but lose something old and dear to me. Then, something surprising happens. All of a sudden I feel at ease. What has made me forget my fear? Something faint. As if from far away. I can hear. I can hear the most beautiful sound I have ever heard, regardless of the fact that this is the first time I can hear anything. I am unaware of what is making this sound but this leads me to another conclusion; that there is a world beyond my own.

This self actualization has also made me realize that there is a world full of life within me, I know this because I can hear it move inside me; pulsating and reverberating. A steady beating sound, that grows stronger each day. The world outside, however intrigues me more. I want to hear the soft cooing of that reassuring yet mysterious presence that I feel with me all the time now. I share a strong bond with this entity, one that I cannot describe, one that I cannot even comprehend myself. Is it possible to love something that you have never seen or felt? Something you are not even sure truly exists yet?But she is there. I know she is.

And I know she loves me too, because she tells me stories. She tells me stories about the world outside and how she can’t wait to see me. At first she told me stories of the adventures we will have together, her words full of hope and courage. But lately I hear no sounds. I wait for her to acknowledge me, for her to tell me a new story, but she seems to have forgotten me. Has she forgotten me just as I forget my dreams?

I know she loves me because she has sheltered me within her for nine long months, for nine long months she has kept me alive. I know she hasn’t forgotten me, because through our special bond, I feel her distress. I want to help her but I cannot even help myself. But I finally know the reason that causes her pain, it is because I am like her. If the world were a different place, it wouldn’t even matter if I was like her. If the world were a different place it wouldn’t matter what chromosomes I was born with. If the world were a different place I would still be in it.





Source; gifer

But the world isn’t a different place.

And I will not be in it, before I wake.

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