In time, I began to accept the fact that I wasn’t dreaming… This was real. If it’s reality, I won’t wake up in my own bed. I’m going to have to figure out what it is and what to do about it.
I’m finally home. The nightmare is over. Now I can look back and describe it as best I remember it. It started Christmas eve. I had some crazy involuntary movements in my right arm. We agreed I needed to go to an emergency room to find out what was wrong. We called an ambulance and went to the ER. I just wanted to get tested and go home. But they wanted to give me another test the next day. NO! That’s Christmas. I didn’t want to spend Christmas in an ER. So I walked out. Next thing I remember, I was in that demonic nightmare. What I’ve been told since, the cops found me “wandering around incoherent” so they took me to a county ER, not the one I had gone to voluntarily.
I got out of the county place and back into my regular hospital. I wasn’t free but I knew it was real. I was in touch with relatives and I was told I had had a heart attack and also diabetes. My world was the confines of what I could see from my bed. I was very weak. I wasn’t me any more.
After about two months, I was told I could go to “rehab” where I could rebuild my strength. An ambulance took me there. I was cheerful during the ride. But, when we entered the facility, my heart sank. The people in charge just looked blankly at me. I was finally given a bed next to other beds. Nobody explained anything.
It’s finally over. I’m back home. I feel as if I were resurrected from the dead.
- The Night in Question. From the Machine