Reality bites… a magpie tale.

Why are you doing this to me? Who are you? Stop! I remember myself crying out loud while thinking this must be a dream. I don’t even know where I am or if I am really here. All I know is that I can’t see a thing, I feel numbed, yet forced to breathe.

I can half-see a big bed, feel the 300-thread Egyptian sheets, comforter, downer and pillows… lots of pillows. It seems like a 5-star hotel, one of those with an “at your service” button always available. I open my eyes and the room is dark, yet a tiny ray of light shows thru the heavy blackout drapes. Ok, I get it – I am in a hotel room, but where? What am I doing here?

My legs are heavy; the alarm clock is blinking with that green flashy light that makes my eyes feel tired. Why can’t I move? Is it night or day? I kept wondering while the remote control of a fancy flat screen TV rolls down my thigh. Then I dozed in again…but I can hear a constant bip… bip bip bip…. bip bip bip…. It has a pattern, I think to myself; but what is that? Water dripping then a loud noise, not far yet not close enough to identify the source. My ears are swollen, I can feel it; this noise must be unreal.

The more I fight it the less I can stand it. I am half sleep half awake yet so aware. No familiar voices, no familiar smells. I manage to turn around and my hair got over my face, but my hands are useless, I can’t brush it away. Then I see a red light blinking and I closed my eyes… fell asleep, but was I really awake?

First I’m cold, then hot… then shivering again. It is the constant changes what makes me wonder if it is true or fake, if I am here or there… but really, where am I?

Finally that sound, coming from my cell –the first sign that indeed, this is happening, that it is real. Is the alarm set to wake me up at 6 AM. I open my eyes, the sun is bright and shining; looked around, recognizing the field: room service menu tossed by the bed, fluffy sleepers, magazines…a glass desk and my laptop on it. My suitcase open, half empty half full with dirty clothes. A bathroom door, a safe box, two sad looking apples on a wooden plate; the voice mail red light blinking on the phone. Sitting on the bed, making sense of the whole scene; looking around, rubbing my eyes and stretching. On my way to taking my shower I stopped by the door, looked to my right and a fancy antique mirror greets me: it reflects the room, big bed with white sheets; it has a golden frame, clean surface, crystal clear... and then the bip…bip bip bip…. bip bip……bip distracts me again; is the ice making machine! I giggle a little – silly me. It was all a dream, a bad one, but nonetheless a dream. I turned around, grabbed a towel and closed the door. Hot water running, steam filling the room. I am happy and calmed that it is all under control. I’m singing in the shower, getting ready for work.

Outside the bathroom door, my singing starts to fade. It gets hot, then cold, and then hot again…it is dark, time stops. Then it kicks me: if there was a mirror, why wasn’t my reflection there? Because there is no mirror on the wall… It has never been there.

Last thing I remember, I was

Running for the door

I had to find the passage back

To the place I was before

’relax,’ said the night man,

We are programmed to receive.

You can checkout any time you like,

But you can never leave…

Hotel California, Eagles.

This is a Magpie tale - Mag 37 - for other Magpie tales click  Magpie tales