Convalescence

Last night I found myself in a hospital bed, my body wrapped tightly in bandages, in a large room whose walls were too far away for me to see. My mind was unclear, possibly still dizzy from whatever had happened to have ended up where I was, and I could feel myself still bleeding but from where I couldn't tell. The sound of a door opening and closing echoed around me and I heard footsteps cutting the silence towards me, more than a hundred in all, one after the other, casual and deliberate. I was so far from wherever that door was, but in no time at all those steps were right next to me, although the body that they belonged to was nowhere in sight.

"Hello?" I asked without reply, repeating myself twice before I heard anything other than my own voice.

"Hey."

I turned my head as much as I could, which wasn't much at all. I recognized the familiar tone but there seemed to be no one from which it came. "I thought you said you weren't coming."

"No, I said nothing like that, and, as you can see, here I am."

"Yes, of course," I said. The bandages wrapped around me seemed tighter than they had even just moments earlier, especially one on my chest, that I could see was gradually turning from white to deep red. "Well, I thought you said I wouldn't be here."

"No, I said nothing like that, and, as you can see, you are."

"Yes, of course," I said. Clearly I was mistaken because now I remember that nothing at all was ever said, just subtle implications that I clearly misinterpreted. My chest was even deeper red now.

"Come, let's go for a walk."

I tried to turn my head and look at this person, but I could neither turn my head nor see anyone if I could. I was upset at these words and showed it in my reply. "I can't walk! Can't you see where I am? In this hospital bed, bleeding, my entire body wrapped up and waiting to recover?"

"No, I hadn't noticed, and, as you can see, I'm well enough to walk."

"Yes, of course," I said, spitting out the last words in the conversation. The footsteps began again, the sound of them fading further and further away but not ending. I wondered if they'd quietly slipped out through the door or if they were just hiding in the corner, waiting to see if I'd join them or die from the wounds. I wasn't sure myself, and the bandages on my chest turned no whiter.

My dreams lately are blurring the lines between imagination and reality, and the best sleep I ever seem to have is when I'm awake.