I came back from college and the warm blanket in my room looked as welcoming as ever. At that time, there was nothing easier to do than to slide through the blanket and let go, close my eyes and open my mind, to dreams that is. It took a few minutes as I shuffled within the blanket, but then sleep came upon me, as enchanting and as soothing as ever. I don't know for how long I slept, but after some time, I could hear my mum talking. My eyes were closed, and my body was unmoved. I tried shifting my head, it took all my will power and all the effort in the world and yet it moved just a wee bit towards the other side. I tried again, and again. I could move my head, finally. Moving the rest of my body was equally difficult and agonizing. But Thank God, I could move. Just as I opened my eyes, I realised I was somewhere else. It was still my house and still my mum and yet, it didnt feel 'real'. It didn't feel 'here'. By here, I mean the world in which I'm writing my blog. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep again. I did. This time it was much longer, but then I heard some movement. I think it was our servant. There was a part of me that had woken up, but it was as if my body was still asleep, as if my heart had stopped pumping blood but I could still breathe easily. I lay there, unable to move, again. My body became my prison, and I could not free myself from it. Only death could do me apart from my body, and it would not come. I just lay there, powerless, trapped. It took an enormous amount of strength to get my fist to open, to move the fingers of my feet. And then, the blood would start moving slowly, and after a painful wait, and an even more painful effort, I could move. But the world in which I woke up, still did not feel like reality, more like an illusion. It was so true, and yet I had never experienced anything more fake. I closed my eyes. Twelve times, I woke up, twelve times my soul pleaded with my body to free it. Twelve times, I went through the same suffering. Twelve times, I opened my eyes in worlds that were not mine. Twelve times I closed my eyes, praying with all my heart that the next time I open them, I would be here, that my suffering would end. It was the thirteenth time though, even before my eyes opened, I knew I had done it. No effort, no pain. I could move with effortless ease. It was the same room I had woken up in, thirteen times now, but this time I knew, it was truly mine, it was real, it was here. The room in which I write my blog.
I don't have nightmares often. I don't even remember ever having them before. But this is what I woke up to (the thirteenth time, that is) half an hour ago. It's an experience I've never had before, and I hope I dont have it ever again.