Bad dreams, bad time

You wake up, shocked again.  Another odd dream.  This time, it was sensation of falling and hitting your head.  The dream felt too realistic to be just a dream.  The pain and shock that overpowered your body felt far too painful, far too unsettling.  You get up from bed and take a moment to look outside.  The windows were sealed shut after a time where you fell out of the window hit your head, or was that another dream?  Amelia did say she was worried that you’d fall out of a window one day, so it could have happened.  You have a hard time telling what’s real or what’s fake ever since you started getting those dreams.

You brush your teeth for a while, paying notice to the empty medicine cabinet.  One day, she just decided to take every pill and bottle you had and hide it somewhere, saying that it’s not safe to take anything you could be allergic to.  Ever since then, you need to ask her to get you your pills.  You head to the kitchen and notice Amelia searching the area, checking every corner of the room.  “You’re up pretty early.”

She jumps a bit and turns to you.  You notice the bags in her eyes and how she was twiddling her thumbs the whole time as though she’s nervously about something, “Oh, um, yeah, I just wanted to do some chores and take out the garbage for you.  So, you know, you wouldn’t have to go outside this morning,” she says followed by a nervous laugh.

“That’s a first for you.  I’m proud of you,” you jokingly tease her for a bit.  You’ve been together for a few years.  During those years, she would always complain or makes excuses when being asked to do anything, so this was the first time she went out of her way to help around the house.

Still, you can’t help but connect it to your dream.  Maybe you just talk too much in your sleep, and she just wanted to get some quiet time for herself.  “I can take care of the rest of the morning.  You look a little tired, so you should go take a up while I make you something nice,” you tell her.  You take her hand and take her to the dinner table before returning to the kitchen to make some breakfast.  While cooking, you look back to see Amelia relax and fall asleep in her chair.  Now everything seemed to be returning back to the way they were.

You chop some onions, making as little noise as possible to not wake her up.  As you do, your mind drifts back to those dreams you can’t shake off.  It can’t be real, can it?  Amelia getting up early and doing something nice for you?  That’s just too ridiculous to be real.  And if that time where you fell off the stairs was a dream, then what would that make today?  You pause for a moment and look at the knife in your hand.  A thought comes in, if you’re dreaming, then would this hurt you?  You position your knife along your arm.  Will you end up back in bed if you cut yourself?  Curiosity takes the better part of your judgement; you need to know if this morning is real or not.  You slowly let the knife bury itself into your arm, etching a long cut bleeding out of your wound.  The stinging pain on your arm was the last sensation you remember before you woke up again.

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You’re back in bed again.  Another odd dream.  The stinging pain you felt along your arm, the blood that came out.  It felt too realistic and too painful to be a dream.  You get up and continued your morning routine except one of your hands was handcuffed to the bed.  You can hear Amelia preparing food in the kitchen and reached out to her, “Ame?  Honey, why am I cuffed to the bed?  Can you come get me out?”

“Just a second!” you hear her cry out.  Shortly after, she brings a plate of toast, eggs, and milk to you.  “Here, don’t worry, I just wanted to make you a little breakfast, so you wouldn’t have to go anywhere or do anything dangerous!”  Amelia looks awful.  Her eyes look bloodshot and strained as though she hasn’t closed her eyes or even blinked, how long has she been up?  She keeps hyperventilating, has something been stressing her out?  She inspects your arms and legs and even pulls up your shirt and pants to inspect every part of your skin.  “Ame, Are.  Are you okay?  Are you upset with me?”

“What?  No, silly.  No. No. No.  I just wanted to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself.  It’s nothing, so here, just enjoy some breakfast.”  You give her a concerning look, and she returns a weak smile at you.  You’re not sure if you were sleep talking and made her worried again.  With your free hand, you reach out for the knife, but Amelia panics and screams at you, “Wait! NO!” she instantly grabs your hand before you took the knife.  Her eyes were wide open, and her hyperventilating become painfully strained.  “Knives, even these little ones, are dangerous.  You might accidentally cut yourself.  Here, let me take care of everything for you.”  She takes the fork and knife and cuts a piece of the toast for you.  “Here, open wide.”