I’m laying in Kim’s guest bedroom, curtains shut tight and a blanket tucked under the door to keep out the biggest enemy in the entire world; the light.
Dancing around with Kim was not the wisest idea in the world because about 30 minutes later I thought my head was going to split open. Luckily, Mr Trant got the wheels in motion quickly and Kim was able to drive my car back to her house.
I’m now on lockdown, with a litany of medications coursing through my bloodstream and I wish on some level I would just die already. The four busted ribs, broken arm, broken leg, fractured collarbone and fractured skull with major internal bleeding were a walk in the park compared to what I have to deal with now.
The thing about migraines is that they’re 100% debilitating. Light feels like swords going through my eyes, noice is a wrecking ball to my brain and you can forget movement. Laying down hurts. Sitting up hurts. Simply existing hurts. It’s physically nauseating and when I throw up it’s like Lucifer himself is ripping out my soul.
The house is dead silent. Kim knows the drill when I have an episode. And God bless her, she will have buttered toast and tea waiting for me when I emerge from my cave. I know the meds are working because I can feel that groggy, woozy sensation start to take over. Any minute now I will be falling asleep and hopefully waking to a clear head.
God…my brain is on fire…
She enters the house. It’s raining outside so she removes her shoes before going into the kitchen to put the groceries away. She feels anxious and she knows it’s because of all the weird occurrences happening around her lately. She knows someone is out to get her. And she knows that she will fight back. She’s a strong one.
The house is her one refuge. She knows that when she enters these walls, nothing on the outside can touch her. It’s her own protective force field.
“Nothing will happen to me,” she says to the house. She can feel it’s walls breathe in and out with her, giving her a big hug saying, “You will be okay.”
She glances out the window and stops short. There he is again. He’s standing by the tree, like he always does, staring at her through the window with gleaming green eyes. He never actually enters onto the property and she likes to believe it’s because of the force field. A shiver runs up her back. He won’t leave her alone until he gets what he wants…
I start awake, fragments of my dream swirling around my head like little snowflakes. Well that was…weird…and familiar. I don’t dream when I fall into a medicated haze. It’s usually just this black abyss I float around in. But, then again, I did recover from a major accident and I guess the manual for migraine protocol isn’t written in stone.
I slowly start to test my body, gently moving my arms and legs, paying close attention if any movement will jar me back into hell. So far, so good. I test my neck last, rocking my head side to side on the pillow. Sometimes this is the kicker and sometimes it’s not. Today, it is not and I breathe a sigh of relief. I ease out of bed even more slowly. It’s like watching a baby deer learn to walk. I take tentative steps towards the door and remove the blanket from the floor, folding it and placing it on the bed. No light comes out from under the door so I’m assuming I slept most of the day and into the night.
I ease it open a crack and peek down the hall. All the lights are off. I walk quietly towards the kitchen. Kim is sitting at the island, a soft light coming from the fireplace in the living room and a lone candle sitting on the counter in front of her. She’s working on her computer and the little tap-tap-tap of her fingers on the keys is comforting. She looks up and smiles warmly at me.
“That was one of your better ones,” she speaks softly, unsure of how recovered I am. I smile wanly and ease onto a stool next to her.
“You were out for nine hours, babe. How do you feel?” She rubs my back gently.
“I feel…okay. Better then the last time I got hit.”
“Good.” She gets off her stool and starts moving around the kitchen. I see the bread already sitting in the toaster and the teakettle already on the stove. My heart smiles.
“Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
“Nope…let’s here it.”
I laugh, “I love you. Where would I be without you?”
“For one, you’d still be living in that toilet you called home with those cracked-out whores you called friends, that’s where you’d be.”
I snort, “They were not my friends. Rent checks is what they were.”
“Even still…I can’t believe you lived there for three years.” She mock shudders.
“Not anymore. I do believe, before my head fell off, that I just purchased a rather charming little house just down the road from you, am I right?”
“Why…why, yes you did!”
We both giggle like nine year olds.
My weird little dream comes back to me. “Hey, so get this. I actually had a dream when I was under.” This gets her attention and she turns around from the stove to look at me.
“What kind of dream?”
“It was…weird. It was this woman walking into a house and she was all nervous. But the house was her protector. Something about it though was…familiar,” I think my brain is still after-shocking from the migraine because I feel really slow and really stupid. I should be grasping this faster.
“Huh…did you see what the woman looked like?”
“No. It was from her perspective. And then she looked out the window and saw this man standing by a tree…” My voice trails off. A funny feeling starts to turn in my stomach. “But what’s so weird is that the house is mine.”
Kim’s smooth forehead creases as she looks at me, “You mean the one you just bought?”
“Yes. I didn’t put two and two together until just now. That woman was walking into her house but it’s my house.”
“Are you sure the woman wasn’t you?”
I consider this. After a few moments I say, “No. I don’t think she was me. She felt…different.”
“Huh,” Kim pauses, chewing her full lip, “Well…shit. I don’t know. I mean…you did just buy a house. Maybe,” pause, “Maybe you had a dream because you’re feeling a little anxious about it? I mean, the whole process?” She’s asking me.
We both stare off into space for a few minutes. It could be anxiety. Or it could be something else entirely. It’s always hard to figure anything out after a migraine. Nothing seems to fire right for a day or so after.
“Well, hey, no sense in stressing over it now.” Kim places my toast and tea in front of me. “Eat. And then sleep. And then tomorrow if you’re feeling okay we are going to San Jose to get your things because you’re not spending another night in that butt-crack of an apartment.”