AT SLEEP'S EDGE

This is weird.

I thought of calling you, then realized you’re surely already asleep, what with the time difference. So I’m writing this. You’ll see it in the morning. But it’s mostly just to get it out, out of my head, and to have you hear it - or read it. 

I’m sitting here in my room, with a cup of coffee beside me, and the TV on. I can hear the noise and see the light flickering, changing colors, but I don’t even know what show it is.

 “What’s all this?” I can hear you ask. “Coffee at bedtime? TV? Aren’t you the one who says blue light is the worst thing you can do to your brain before trying to sleep?”

I am. And that’s why I’m doing it. And the coffee.

You see, even though I have work in the morning, I don’t want to go to sleep. I’m tired - plenty tired, after waking up two nights in a row at 3am - but as much as my body wants it, I’m … well, I might as well admit: I’m afraid. Afraid to fall asleep.

What’s been waking me the last two nights isn’t a noisy neighbor, or someone gunning a motorcycle in the street. Those I could deal with. It’s a dream. A nightmare. And I just can’t face having it again. I have no idea what it means, but it scares the hell out of me. 

It’s early evening. You know that time when the sun’s down., and it’s starting to get dark, but hasn’t yet? When things start losing their color and turning into shapes? That. Plus, it’s a little misty, making lights reflect and making the pavement slippery.

I’m driving home, not fast, trying to think about dinner. But I’ve got Lucius on the phone, and he’s just not getting what he needs to with this website we’ve been building. I’m trying to keep my temper - not doing too well - and I’m visualizing it in my head, to be sure I’m telling him clearly. So maybe I’m a bit distracted… 

But then, Bam! There’s this soft slamming sound, and the steering wheel jumps in my hand.  I hit the brakes and pull off, and get out and run back, and there’s this person. A human-size lump in a raincoat, not moving, just lying there.

So I grab my phone and dial 911, and I’m talking to the operator when I get close enough to see her. A woman, about my age, in a raincoat. Her briefcase is about 10 feet farther away, “back where I hit her,” I think. And that makes my stomach flip over, and the tears start.

But I “cowgirl up,” as you’re always saying, and  call to her, to get her conscious. The operator asks if she’s breathing, and when I put my hand near her mouth, she’s not. But I know CPR, and I gently roll her off her side and onto her back, and start to work. 

While I’m counting and breathing into her mouth, I hear the sirens. The EMTs roll up, jump out and take over, and I stand up, kind of dizzy. They give her a shot. For something to do, I walk over to her briefcase and bring it to one of them, who has a mustache and looks like my cousin Gary. He starts looking inside for her identification. 

Then, suddenly, a car comes speeding up, a blue SUV, and skids to a stop by the EMT van.

Out jumps this older woman. She has a coat pulled over her pajamas, and her feet are in slippers. She runs to the woman on the ground, who hasn’t breathed or moved. When she gets there, the EMT stops working and says to her, “I’m sorry, ma’am. She’s not responding. I’m afraid she’s gone.” 

The older woman staggers back, then starts to moan. “No, no…” She comes over to me, and puts her face right up to mine, and says, “Why? Why did you do this? Why did you kill my baby?” And she crumples to her knees. I kneel down, wanting to put my arm around her, but not daring to.”I’m sorry, mama,” I say. “I’m sorry.” Then again I say “Mama,” but this time it’s a question. And she turns up to look at me again -- and it’s my mother. 

That’s when I jerk awake, shaking, my heart going 100 miles an hour. Both nights. 

The first time, I almost called my mother to find out if she was okay. Then I remembered she’s been gone five years now. So after a trip to the bathroom, and a few sips of warm water in the kitchen, I was able to shake it off and go back to sleep. 

Last night was worse. I mean, I can’t remember when I’ve ever had the same dream twice -- exactly the same, frame for frame. And my reaction -- I was trembling, almost crying, and couldn’t begin to think coherently. But I finally got back to sleep, after an hour or two. 

I wish we could sit down and talk this over, calmly, in a safe, warm room. I can’t begin to guess why this dream has showed up, or what in the world it could mean. But I realized tonight as bedtime drew near that I sure as hell don’t plan to just go through it again, with no clue. It feels almost … abusive. I don’t know. 

I do know I’m going to do an all-nighter, if I can. And work? The office will just have to suck it up. Please get back to me as soon as you see this. I really need your help.