A walk in the park

Today, I woke up with a raging headache, unable to attribute it to anything. After all, I have been sober for 99 days. Back in the day, massive headaches were a regular occurrence. A bottle of Advil never left my nightstand. The moment I would open my eyes, I would grab three or four pills and chase them with a sip or two of water. No matter how drunk I was, I always made sure to go to bed with a tall bottle of water nearby.

Last night, I got home from work, ate dinner from a box that I “cooked” in a microwave, watched the news, and went to bed around 11pm. Nothing that would prompt such a terrible headache happened.

I squinted at the clock and then blinked. The time did not change. It read 2.35pm before and after the blink.

“Impossible” – I thought to myself and rubbed my eyes a little, trying to wipe away the sleep.

“There!” – I almost exclaimed as the number on the clock changed.

It was now 2.36pm.

Sure that the clock needed new batteries, I looked at my watch, which rested on my nightstand during the night.

2.37pm, maybe 2.38pm if I looked at it from a different angle.

By then, I was alarmed. A ranging headache combined with the fact that I slept in that late was not something that I could easily ignore. Even though I slept so much, I still felt tired, and I could barely see straight.

A quick look out the window helped me confirm that it was still winter. I almost had a heart attack when I thought that maybe I slept for more than 14 hours. Perhaps I have been asleep for days, or even weeks.

“Maybe I cave and went on a bender?” – I tried to ask myself.

It felt like there was construction going on in my head. Someone was using a jackhammer, someone else was stripping the asphalt, while another person was banging their shovel against concrete. With a shaky hand, I opened the pill bottle I found in my desk and tilted it over my mouth. Four or five painkillers dropped into my throat, nearly causing me to choke. The water bottle was nowhere to be found, so I went into the bathroom to chase the pills with a large gulp of lukewarm tap water. After that, I turned the knob to the left and waited for the water to get cold. I splashed my face with icy water, and for a moment there, I felt better.

Once my face became warm again, the reality of the pounding in my head and my thoughts racing a million miles an hour kicked back in. The only idea that I had was to go outside and get some fresh air. If I drank, then the cold would hopefully sober me up some more. It was possible that I had a headache because my brain was deprived of oxygen as I slept for who knows how long. Or at least the cold could numb me up, making me forget all my worries for a moment. Without thinking twice, I slid my feet into my snow boots, draped a winter coat around my shoulders, pulled a hat onto my ears, and walked out the door. 

The cold was refreshing. I took a couple of deep breaths and my headache already started to subside. Surprisingly enough, there weren’t many people outside for a Saturday afternoon.

“IF it was Saturday” – I remarked, cursing myself for not having checked the date on my computer.

Whenever I felt the need to drink but decided not to indulge, I would turn right at the end of my driveway and walk two blocks to a nearby park. People would come there and have a picnic, play with their dogs, or read a book on one of the benches. I would observe them and witness the possibility of a happy life without alcohol.

Even though it was a sunny day, the cold was bitter. Normally, I would turn back and return home, but today I thought that even Siberia would have been better than that. As I approached the park, I encountered fewer and fewer people. The park was completely empty. No people to observe, therefore no one to encourage me to stay sober. But the urge to drink was not there.

“Hmmm…” – I murmured, scratching my head.

For a few minutes, I walked across the width of the park and wondered what the cause for this sleep-in was. After having reached the end, I turned around and decided to worry no more. Maybe my body just needed to rest.

“It happens” – I said to myself and nodded.

I took a step forward and froze in my tract. I turned back around in a panic. My eyes darted from front to back, back to front, right to left and left to right.

“Impossible!” – I thought to myself and started twitching with stress.

“What is going on?” – I wondered.

Wherever I looked, I could not see any bootprints. It wasn’t snowing, and there was no one to sweep more snow over them. I wasn’t leaving any prints. To my horror, when I looked downwards, I saw no legs. I felt them but could not see them. I extended my arms but could not see them either.

“This is a dream. This is a dream. THIS IS A DREAM!” – I announced and laughed.

“No, it’s not.”

I turned around. There was still no one around.

“Who said this?” – I felt even stupid to ask.

It must have been all in my head.

“Up here” – the mysterious voice replied.

“Oh, no. I’m DEAD?” – I asked angrily.

I quit drinking precisely because I didn’t want to die, and now, I was dead anyway? The whole situation wasn’t making much sense to me.

“This is pathetic” – I thought to myself and headed towards home.

I was going to get back home, into my bed, and fall asleep. Once I would get up, everything would be normal again. It had to be. With my headache now gone, I briskly walked in the direction where I came from.

“Where do you think you’re going?” – a man who suddenly appeared in front of me asked.

“Where’d you come from?” – I asked, turning around, looking for a vehicle.

“Up there” – he said and pointed towards the sky.

I rolled my eyes and was about to walk around him when I noticed that there were no bootprints around his feet, either.

“You’re not dead. You’re just a chameleon” – the mystery man replied.

“A what?” – I asked, wondering if maybe the headache impacted my hearing.

“A chameleon. A floating one, too” – the man said and then disappeared.

One second he was there, and then another he was gone. And then he was back again.

“We’ve abducted you last night and ran a couple of tests on you” – the man explained.

“Tests?” – I asked.

“Yes. We had a feeling that humans would be able to transform with our help, but we could not prove it. Until right now, that is” – the stranger continued.

“We? Who’s “we”?” – I asked, feeling the headache ramp out again.

All this nonsense was hurting my brain.

“We’re a superior race. To you, we are what you call “aliens.””

“So, let me get this straight. I have not been on a bender in the recent future?”

The stranger shook his head.

“And let me guess. I have a raging headache, and I did not wake up until the afternoon because you drugged me last night?”

The man nodded without offering an explanation.

“And now I can make myself invisible. Oh, and I can float?”

Another nod.

“Aha. I think I need a drink” – is what I remember saying last before fainting.