Sensory Memory

Smoke.

I smell smoke.

My head is heavy, my eyes refuse to open. I’m still in a deep, heavy sleep. Sleep. Is it sleep or a nightmare, how can I tell for sure? The smell of smoke is getting stronger, I can taste it now on my lips. I’m struggling to swallow and it travels to the tip of my tongue, tingling for a bit before it disappears down my dry throat. Now, the taste on my lips feels more metallic. I read somewhere that it happens after inhaling a lot of smoke. The smell intensifies and my brain becomes more alert. It rushes to wake me up, forcing me to open my eyes. Along with that, the panic starts to rise. No! This can’t be happening. Not again! My hearing is joining the other senses. As if through a sick layer of water… or perhaps fog… I hear a faint distant voice. It’s screaming. Do I know this voice? Is it familiar? I can’t tell but stubbornly don’t wake up.

I want to ignore this sound, I just want to sleep! Let me be. Let me rest! The scream, it’s coming closer. I know now that the woman is screaming but I still refuse to open my eyes. Oh, when is this going to end? What is that sound? Something new… It reminds me of the crackling of the wood when we burned it on the beach. It feels like that was in some other, different life. Because there is no more me, no more you. There is probably not even a beach… When was I there the last time? I don’t remember.

Yes, I smell it now, the burned wood. It gets stronger, mixing with the smoke, and somehow making it more tolerable. It pulls me deeper into the dream, making me feel cozy. I want to curl up and cover my ears. No more, please no more! Let me sleep.

The air around me is broken with a loud desperate scream. My heart jumps into my throat beating so hard, I can feel every pulse in my ears but it still can’t conceal the screaming. It comes closer and closer until it fills the entire space around me, inside me and I suddenly sit up in a last attempt to shake it off as the scream takes shape and escapes my throat. That’s why I didn’t recognize the scream! No one ever knows what they sound like until they get into that state of paralyzing terror when you want to put all your energy with the tiny bits of strength you are desperately trying to gather into one last attempt to announce to the world that you are alive!

What is this? Where am I? What is this noise? It’s above, it’s moving, it’s getting closer! I have to run! But why? Why do I know that I need to run when I hear it? My entire being is overtaken by fear as it gets closer and closer and in the next second, I realize that my instinct was right.

BAM! The ground is shaking while the cloud of bright fire shoots up out of the ground so close to me that I can almost feel its heat. What am I doing? Why am I not running? My head! It’s heavy. I can hardly lift it. Am I sick? That’s what I feel like when I have a fever.

BAM! This time I didn’t even hear the approaching rumble but the explosion was further away and the earthquake under my feet was not strong enough to knock me back down to the ground. Why is my throat hurting so bad? Wait… I’m still screaming. Run, you fool, RUN! Don’t just stand there and wail! No one can hear you. There is no one and nothing – just a faint outline of what used to be my home, barely seen against the evening sky that is darkened even more by the massive clouds of smoke.

So, run… run where? What is this? Why can’t I think? What am I missing? Can I walk? Yes, thank God. I can move my feet but where am I going? My legs feel like they live outside of me. I’m too tired to move, I want to lie down. But I keep walking towards the ruins that just this morning was my home. Why? What’s there? I need to stop screaming. Stop screaming!

The fire is too high, I can’t get through. Oh, that smell! It doesn’t have that sweet hint of wood anymore. It’s mixed with dust and dirt and hot air. It clogs my lungs, my throat. I choke on my own scream before I bend down and vomit onto the scorched ground. The stupid thought slips in reminding me that this spot here was my precious tulip patch. I’m certain. I watered them earlier today before rushing towards the house to tell you that our tulips will be better this year. That they are almost ready to be cut. My beautiful innocent flowers…This sound is approaching again. God, no! Not again. Isn’t it enough? There is nothing here. NOTHING! Go Away!

BAM! I’m thrown down again. Stop shaking, just stop! Get a grip, you have to go. Where? Where? Where! I can’t scream anymore. I can’t cry. I feel like I am burning from the inside out. Here! I can try to get through on this side, no fire here. Just a pile of loose dirt. I can climb over it. It’s not too high! Where did it come from? This morning, when I was with my tulips, it wasn’t there. I’m not crazy. I clearly remember checking the flowers and running towards the house, just across here. So where could it come from? Is this a nightmare? All of this is going through my head while I’m digging into the hot dusty dirt climbing to the top. It seemed so much smaller from the bottom. But maybe it just looked that way in the dark? The illumination of the fire is so deceiving but I have to admit – it’s magnificent. A glorious all-empowering flower of fire. It is rising higher and higher against the black sky and ground resembling the colors and shape of my favorite Royal Tulips.

I stretch my hand and meet emptiness. The top. I pull up in a last attempt to get to the other side. I’m exhausted, my head feels like it’s going to split into two. But I’m so happy I don’t have to walk. My legs, they are shaking. They feel wet. Did I piss myself? Why are they so wet? I pause at the top of the dirt pile to touch my right leg – it’s closer. Sticky, wet… but not smelly. I raise my hand to my eyes. It’s covered in dirt and something red. What could it be? Is that… blood? I’m bleeding!

I take a quick scan of my body. At least, of what I can make out in the glaring light of the fire. My legs are bloody. Both of them? Where is that coming from? My clothes now feel all sticky and wet too. Is the blood coming from somewhere there? Suddenly my hands start to shake. I shiver, I’m cold! How could I be cold in the middle of this raging fire? Later. I can think about it later. I know I’m running out of time, even my vision is blurring out. Or maybe it’s the smoke that is enveloping me, trying to swallow me whole, making it hard to see. Just a little push…I nearly roll down the pile to the other side. I hit my elbow hard on the piece of wood or rock that used to belong to my home. What am I doing? Where am I going? What is there for me?

Silence. It comes crashing down on me completely unexpectedly momentarily turning off all my senses. I don’t hear any more wood cracking and falling as it collapses all around the structure. There are no smells. I still taste metal but now it turns into more of a bloody mix in my mouth. Should I spit it out? Or, if I’m losing blood, should I swallow it? Would it help to keep that little bit in my body? Why is it so quiet and still? Did I faint? I lift my arm again – no. I try to get up but my legs refuse to hold me so I grab the nearest pole sticking out of the ground, not caring what it is. It’s hot to the touch but bearable. Sort of like that electric heating pad you bought for me to use when my back flared up. UP. I have to stay UP. So, I can see my home. So, I can find… What am I looking for? The brain slowly but obediently brings sense and order to my scattered thoughts. I’m looking … for you? Is that possible? Oh, God. I don’t know where you are. You always looked for me, always made me so safe and protected. I assumed you were somewhere here. But how come you didn’t rush to my side like you always do? Why haven’t you pulled me off that awful pile of dirt and told me that everything was fine? What could have possibly prevented you from taking me away from these horrible loud noises? And why did you let them destroy all my tulips?

Something wet is streaming down my face, burning all my cuts. Tears? Finally! It’s a relief. It means I’m still alive if I’m crying. I’m not just some ghost trying to walk around the remains of my life. I try to take a deep breath and fail. Instead, I start coughing – a long, dry cough that shakes my entire being. There is that taste of smoke again. But it’s worse now because dust made it so much heavier. I stand UP and try again knowing that if I can’t fill my lungs with air, I can’t call for you. Success. My scream, barking out your name, comes unexpectedly even for me. And again, and again, and again. I move a bit closer to the structure squinting my eyes, hoping to see more in the flashes of fire in the background. Is that? I think I see you lying on your side where the entrance to our kitchen used to be. We were so excited when we finally could make it the way we wanted! You are such a great cook. I ruined countless dishes here but not you – anything you do always comes out great. How did I get so lucky? You are always so sweet with me, thoughtful... tender. You never complain. You are always happy and get along with anyone. I remember how we argued over moving here. Actually, I argued because you never wanted to see me unhappy so you gave in. For you, if “I” wanted something it equated to “we” wanted it. And so, we got this place, we fixed it up, we spent six months building the kitchen of our dreams. Then why are you lying there? Why aren’t you answering me? Get up damn it! Answer me! How can you just let me be here by myself?

I keep calling out to you, I’m cursing you out as loud as I can while I attempt to drag my broken legs over the debris of what used to be our home just a few hours ago. Or was it minutes? I can’t remember. I don’t know when and how I ended up outside! I don’t remember anything after I ran towards the house to tell you about the fucking tulips! I get a bit closer, I can almost see your face now, your eye. My heart leaps because your eye is open! Yes! I’m coming, I’m here! I… I stop abruptly exhaling harshly before I start screaming again. And again, and again, and again. Your face, your eye is the only thing I can see but it’s not you, it can’t be you because that is all that’s left. Your body is pinned down to the floor with something sharp. It looks like glass… I look up as if in slow motion and clearly see that piece of glass missing from the skylight above the kitchen that you wanted so badly. It will provide good ventilation for your cooking, you said. No! It can’t be, it’s not real, I have to wake up, wake up now! You need to get up, you have to answer me! Don’t do this to me now, please!

I think I see some car lights coming closer. Firefighters? Military? Possible… See, they will help us, they will take care of you. Hold on, my love, just one more minute. I’ll make it over to you, I will take your hand and we will leave. For a while. We will heal and come back when the war is over. And you know what? I think I agree - we should make the kitchen even bigger this time around. And let’s have kids, lots of kids! Somebody has to help me with the garden. What did you want to grow? All these herbs for your cooking? You can have my patch. I don’t need the stupid tulips. You can have anything you want for as long as we both shall live. Just please, please answer me! I’m so close to you. Just another minute…

BAM! This was too close! I could feel the floor shaking. The remainder of the wall I’m holding onto suddenly started to wobble crumbling right under my hand. I managed to look up to see how the roof cracked in half pausing for a moment before it started to part ways. What an amazing sight! I can see the smoky sky and the moonlight shining through directly above our dining room. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I hear a faint but scared voice telling me to run again. But I can’t. I’m so close! I can almost touch your hand because I know that if I do, everything will be great! Just as it was. I stretch my hand, noticing in the corner of my eye how large pieces start to fall all around me. I make a leap in the last desperate attempt to reach you…

Hands. Multiple hands pulling me away from you. They are strong, they smell like fire and something else. Maybe guns? Or gas? Now, I’m also starting to hear the voices. There are many. They yell at each other talking about me like I’m not even here! Stop! Stop it right now. You don’t understand, I have to get there, I have to… They keep telling me that we got to go, there is a mass attack on the whole town. It’s being leveled to the ground, as were many others after these fuckers sweep over the residential areas. I know the voices are right. I know, the terror is not going to stop until everything is gone but my house is already gone, can’t they not see it? So why can’t they seize fire or whatever is the proper command to give them to stop the noise and the rockets? I can’t go, I won’t go. Let me be, I have to…

I open my eyes realizing that I’m screaming at the top of my lungs fighting in the arms of my sister. Her face is twisted in the grimace as it always does when she is putting all her willpower into not crying. This is her “war” face. It started happening after we started losing people in our family one by one. She sees that I’m awake, she sighs with relief hugging me tighter. My sister, she’s older, starts rocking me in her arms as she did when I was little. All will be fine, she says, again and again. I know she will let me cry and scream until I’m exhausted and fall asleep in her arms. It has happened nearly every night since a Russian rocket flew into my… no, our home. Because it was ours, ours, ours! For the last ten years, it was always us and we. Never I and you but now… it’s been eight months since the attack. I forced myself to believe that I was better but now… the power is out. They are flying over us nightly. This city is bigger. It’s better protected but I can’t stand that noise! Every time it’s approaching, I cringe expecting the BAM! Right on top of us. No power… we have to light candles. Everywhere. And then, we finally try to go to sleep, but the smoke from the candles is still hanging in the room. That is the smell that gets into my senses. That is the sound that my exhausted mind mistakes for the crackling of the wood. Why don’t they leave us alone? They already took everything from me that I had! I have nothing else to give. So let me be! Just let me be. Let me for once have a good dream, go back at least a day before this nightmare started and I stopped living. Yes, yes, I know I’m alive. My sister is arguing with me daily. She doesn’t get that there is a huge unreachable gap between living and existing. I continued to exist after that ballistic rocket ripped my life in two. But I stopped living, hearing, smelling, tasting. All my senses come back to me only when I fall asleep because that is when my main sense, sensory memory, wakes up and takes over me.