I bolted to a sitting position in bed, my eyes popping open as I gasped for air, wanting to scream but not having the oxygen for it.
Sheer panic. As I fought for breath – for life, I realized I’d never really truly experienced panic before. Not like this.
Finally something came unglued in my throat and I sucked in a huge volume of air and then another and another until gradually my breathing slowed and became less ragged. I sat there, still panting, my forehead beaded with sweat. What really made me angry, though, was that I couldn’t even remember what I’d been dreaming of; just the feeling, that panic that had taken over my body like I had been possessed or something.
I looked around for my cell phone, thinking I should record some thoughts onto the phone’s built-in voice recorder, but I was drenched with exhaustion and I fell back onto my pretty pink sheets.