wake

Honestly, I'm not really sure when it started. Only that even now as I write this, something nags at me to wake up.

But the thing is, I am already awake. Wide awake. Because every time I sleep, I dream of myself in a hospital bed, my mother gripping my hand as she begs and prays that I wake up. I see my father pacing the room, eyes tightly shut as he mumbles under his breath. I see my little sister sobbing as she asks me, why won't you wake up? I miss you. I see my older brother searching possible cures on his phone, and him whispering to me, Hey, this really isn't funny anymore. Get up, yeah?

But every morning, it's my mother who walks into my room with a smile on her face, gently shaking me awake to get ready for school. It's my father who wishes me a good day at school before leaving for work. It's my sister who tugs on my sleeve and asks me to skip today and play with her, even as my mom laughs while handing me my lunch. It's my brother who grumbles at me to hurry up, already, as he waits impatiently at the door to walk to school.

At school, too, my friends always manage to slip that phrase into every other sentence, whether they be talking about a new song or our latest assignment. My teachers manage to fit it in their instructions, to spell it out on the board with equations and words.

And, well, I guess I could overlook it, if not for the billboard I pass every day on my walk home from school. It's bright red, with neon letters spelling out a huge Wake Up! across the middle. Underneath it is a phone number that looks real familiar; like maybe the number of the hospital in my dreams.

My friend pointed at it today, turned to me, and said, in complete seriousness,

"Hey, you need to wake up. You don't have much longer left."

I looked at him weirdly. "What do you mean?"

"Hunter, listen to me. They're gonna pull the plug if you don't wake up. You gotta wake up. This isn't real."

"You're crazy. What are you even talking about?"

But by then he was back to normal, tipping his head at me in confusion as he asked, "What do you mean? Didn't you know Drake's newest drop is called Wake Up? It's such a bop."

And I nod and laugh, and pretend I don't see the bush trimmer on the other side of the street, who's looking at me intently.

I pretend not to see the clear Wake Up that's spelled by the trees.

When I get home, it's the same as always. And I ignore the ladybugs in the garden slowly crawling into very familiar letters.

"Welcome home!" Mom pulls me in a hug, "I was wondering when you were going to wake up."

"When I was going to wake up?" I ask this because now this is getting ridiculous. I'm awake. I'm alive. I'm not hooked up to anything. No one can "pull the plug" if I'm not plugged into anything.

"When you were going to get home," Mom repeats. "You had an okay day at school? You're not feeling feverish or anything?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say, because it's true. I'm fine. I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine.

"Play with me!" That's Amora, my little sister, tugging at my hand and pointing to her dollhouse.

And I play with her for a little while, until my brother gets home. That's my cue to start homework. But when I'm about to get up, because Amora knows that when Cody comes home it means playtime's over, she only clings to my leg.

"Don't go! Don't go! You have to get up!"

"What do you mean by I have to get up?"

Amora looks at me tearfully. "Play with me more! Wake up! I miss you!"

But before I can inquire further, Cody ruffles her hair, and she pouts as she lets go.

"C'mon, 'Mora. We got homework. We'll play with you later."

And so me and Cody go to our room and start on homework. It's quiet for a while, but I get stuck on a geometry question and slide over to Cody.

"Can you help me?"

And Cody glances over. "Alright. You need to divide this by that, and add the quotient to the sum of this."

While I'm solving the problem, I realize that Cody keeps staring at me, like I'm one of his puzzles or Rubix cubes he gets stuck on sometimes.

"What?" I mutter. "Do I have glitter on my face or something? You know that's from 'Mora's to-"

"When are you gonna wake up?"

The words are quiet, but I freeze, anyways. This doesn't sound like Cody. Or, well, like normal Cody, anyways. He's usually never this serious. The last time he was, was... well, when Grandma was diagnosed with stage four cancer.

But I'm fine. I don't have a tumor or a stroke or anything. There's no reason for him to be so serious.

I look at him. "What's wrong with you? I'm awake."

And the weird look in Cody's eyes disappears. "What're you talkin about, idiot? I asked, 'When's your science lab?'"

And I almost scream, because no, that's not what you asked me. But maybe I'm just hearing things. Maybe I'm experiencing auditory hallucinations.

Maybe I'll tell Mom about it later and we can go to the doctor to get it checked out.

An hour later, we finish homework and Mom calls us downstairs for dinner, and also because Dad's home now.

As my siblings and I help set the table, I shake the plates a little to mess up where the peas are so meticulously arranged to spell those words I'm sick of.

After dinner, Cody washes dishes; we all take turns with that, except for Amora and sometimes Mom when she's not feeling so great.

Me, Amora, Mom, and Dad sit on the couch, with Amora nestled in Mom's lap and me leaning against the armrest.

Dad turns it to the news. He always does, because it's good for exposure, or so he says.

But the first thing that appears on the news screen are big blue letters that scream, WAKE UP, AMERICA!

And the news anchor manages to slip that phrase into every paragraph and spell it out with the weather patterns.

Halfway through, I get up, making up some lame excuse about being tired, and go to bed early.

Despite my best efforts, I end up asleep.

I dream again.

This time, my parents hug each other tight, and Cody wraps his arms around a sobbing Amora as the doctor says something I can't quite hear. But I see the nurse approaching the machines that dream-me is hooked up to. I see her reaching for the plug, and my friend's words come back to me.

It ignites panic in my veins, even though this is nothing more than a dream,

and for the first time since I've started seeing those words, I try my best to

wake up.

.

I blink my eyes up at blinding lights. I see my parents crying quietly at the foot of my hospital bed, I see Cody bowing his head and gripping Amora's shoulders, and little Amora's tears halting mid-sob as she gasps and hics through red-stained eyes.

"He's finally awake!"