Thirty-four Years

Tonight is the dreaded night. The night we are to set our clocks ahead one hour. The night I lose one hour of sleep. And it comes at the worst possible time. The day started with me finding my best friend, my dog, dead at the back door. She usually waits there for me every morning to be let out to do her ‘business’. It continued with me going to drive to work and discovering I had a flat tire. And Work was no better! I work in a local grocery store, and it seemed as if everyone in town was there, and they were in the foulest mood possible. I”m tired tonight as I crawl into bed beside my husband hoping that tomorrow would be better. 

Sleep was fitful at best. Eventually, the first rays of dawn make their way into my room. And soon I’m aware that the normal sounds I hear when I awake are different somehow. But I ignored the different sounds...sounds of birds chirping replace the sounds of traffic that I usually hear. I notice my husband is up before me, which is unusual for a Sunday morning because he doesn’t have to work on weekends. It is a pleasant and sunny Sunday morning. I remember the loss of my beloved dog and stifle a sniffle and wipe tears away from my eyes. I slowly make my way downstairs after dressing for another horrid day at work. I am accosted by a strange, older man wearing my husband’s pajamas.

“Who are you and how did you get in my house?” he demands as I enter the kitchen.

“I want to know the same!” I said, alarmed that there was a pajama-clad stranger in my house.

“I live here!” he said.

“So do I!” I said.

We just stood there, staring at one another. There was something vaguely familiar about him. After a few minutes he decided to call the police. “I have an intruder in my house, and she’s wearing my wife’s old clothes” he said into a device that wasn’t a telephone. It was pocket sized, and clear...as if it really wasn’t there at all. It was getting really confusing.

Soon the police arrived...at last I think they were police. They weren't not really there...just a hovering device with a picture of a person was there. The strange man spoke to it, and it replied. Then it flew over to where I was still standing and spoke to me. I just stared at it. I didn’t know what to do. 

“I repeat...what is your name?” the body-less hovering machine demanded. Somehow I gathered up the gumption to give my name to the machine hovering inches away from me.

“Sarah Smith” I whisper with a barely audible tone.

“Impossible!” said the pajama-clad man in my kitchen, and he rushed past me up the stairs. The hovering police machine followed close behind him, and then I, too, followed him up the stairs. He rushed into the room where I had been sleeping. “Where is she!” he said as he frantically scoured the room.

“Where’s who?” the police machine asked.

The pajama-clad man looked right at me and said, “What have you done with my wife?”

“I don’t know who you are or why you’re in my house,” I said.

The police machine said nothing but I noticed that they were taking in everything.

“I’ve lived in this house since June of 2000” I said.

“So have I” said the pajama-clad man.

“It seems to be that you both possibly live in the same house” the police machine said.

“Prove that you live here” the pajama-clad man said.

I slowly walk over to the dresser and open the top middle drawer and take out a photo of my husband, my dog, and I sitting on the front porch. “This was taken on the day we first moved in,” I said showing the photo to the police machine and then to the pajama-clad man.

“That photo was taken over forty years ago,” the pajama-clad man said.

“What is today’s date?” I asked.

“March 5, 2043” said the police machine.

“Impossible!” I said. My head was reeling from the news. What happened to the last forty-three years? I went to bed on March 4, 2000.

It finally begins to dawn on the pajama-clad man. I really am his wife and that I finally woke from my long night.

“Officer,” my husband begins. “Forty-three years ago my wife went to sleep one night and never woke up...apparently until now. Until a few days ago I had her on a feeding tube. I decided that I could no longer keep it up and it was time to let her go. So I had the tube removed.”

I looked at this stranger with a new perspective. His familiarness now confirms to me that he could be my husband. 

“Well, the,” said the police machine, “it seems to me that there is nothing for me to report and that this is not a case of illegal entry.” And with that, the police machine flies out of the room, down the stairs and out the way it came in...I guess. I didn’t see it enter the house, and I didn’t see it leave, either.

“Do you remember my name?” the pajama-clad man asked.

“My husband’s name is Joseph,” I said.

“I’m Joseph.” he said. “There’s a lot to explain,” he said, attempting to usher me down the stairs.

I just stood there...in my room...with questions swirling around my head, What kind of world am I  now in? What caused my long night’s sleep? And many unspoken others...all vying for my attention and for answers.

Joseph stood by the room’s door waiting for me to follow him. He knew that he would have a lot of explaining to do...but for now, I was grateful for his taking things slowly.

I follow him down the stairs and into the living room. I look around the room and don’t see anything even vaguely familiar. I remember putting in light blue vertical blinds and in their place was something I’d never seen before. It resembled a bed sheet at least to me. Joseph picked up what I assume was some sort of remote control and it disappeared. I could see the street. Gone were the four-wheeled vehicles we used to drive. In their place were what looked to me to be personal hover crafts...that drove themselves! So many things had changed over the last forty-three years.

“Please sit,” Joseph said as he indicated a strange looking square-ish thing. Again he adjusted that remote control like thing and it changed into a chair! I sat gingerly on it at first. This new life would take some getting used to...for sure!

“I suppose,” Joseph said, “that explaining what happened to you should be the first thing to explain. “The day you fell asleep was the beginning of a pandemic of a sleeping disorder. Most of the early victims didn’t survive, they died of starvation. I insisted that they put a feeding tube in to sustain you. The doctors didn’t have much hope for your survival and after a few months wanted to take the tube out. I refused to let them...until three days ago, that is. I was waiting for you to die...don’t mistake that for not wanting you to live, just my finally coming to terms with the possibility of losing you.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t give up on me.” I said. “Now, what did I miss?” I asked. And suddenly I hear a loud buzzing sound coming from the alarm clock. Time to wake up...finally!