The Sweet Reality of a Nightmarish Life

I’m swimming in a pool, the tiles below me are distorted, the waves making them appear bigger and then smaller. A clock on the wall counts down the time until 1 pm, when I’ll leave. Outside the windows, snow is softly falling, the warmth of the water steams up the windows. It’s cozy and serene and for 20 more minutes I have nowhere else I need to be. 

Sounds are blaring, lights are flashing, it’s overwhelming and I have no idea what’s happening. I look down and I’m dressed in matching blue linens. An arm grabs my arm, it’s also clothed in blue linen. I look up as Bailey shrieks, “We need to go! It’s a fire or a fire drill, I don’t know, but we need to go!” And she starts to tow me to the exit.

A lively bar. Condensation beads off my glass of beer, there’s a live band playing an Irish jig and nearby a fire crackles. Noah puts his hand on my leg, and I feel a surge of love as he looks into my eyes. “Hey, everything okay? It felt like you went somewhere else for a minute there.”

We stand outside, rows upon rows of us, all dressed in blue linens, as we wait for the all clear to go back inside. I’m shivering, there’s a light dusting of snow coming down, I wrap my arms around myself to capture and hold in any warmth that I can. It’s not enough, it’s never enough. “All clear!” shouts one of the guards. “Proceed back inside in an orderly fashion please.” Silently, we line up single file without being told to do so and shuffle our way back inside.

I’m sledding, Bailey has brought her kids, James and Tom, and we’re flying down the hill. James is young, he snuggles into Bailey’s lap and peers out from his hooded coat, two bright eyes watching as we slide down the hill. His little eyebrows pop up in surprise as he and Bailey go over a small bump and I capture a picture right then, forever memorializing his adorably startled face. Tom is already trudging back up, pulling his sled behind him from its rope. He’s on a mission to be the person who’s sledded the farthest ever on this hill. Bailey watches him, her eyes dancing and then she turns to me and hands me a thermos of hot chocolate she’d packed for the trip. We watch as Tom makes it to the top and then zips back down. Once the sled stops, he sticks his legs out surreptitiously, pushing himself forward to make it even further. After about a minute of this, Bailey claps her hands together, “Alright, it’s time to go! C’mon Tom, let’s pack it up it’s cold.” Turning to me she said, “Time for us to get dinner on the table, we need to go!”

I’m lying on a table covered in a clammy sweat, I feel too cold but then I get an intense hot flash and a wave of nausea that douses me in even more sweat which makes me colder yet. A woman in a white coat is there jotting some things down on a tablet. She turns to me and asks, “What’s your name?” “Where’s Bailey?” I respond. She sighs heavily, “Don’t tell me we have to go back to square zero here.”

I’m sweating but it’s a pleasant feeling, because the air is crisp and cold, and the hot tub keeps me warm. I’m staring up at the quiet, clear night sky, stars winking up above and far, far away. I grab the cup of chilled white wine, the plastic making a cracking sound as I pick it up. The crisp wine slides deliciously down my throat. Noah puts an arm around my waist, I put a hand to his face, feeling light stubble, and as our lips meet, I think that there has never been a more perfect evening. 

We’re running laps, Bailey beside me as we pant in the frigid air. It burns my lungs as I suck it in, but it doesn’t matter, it can’t matter, I must keep going. A guard I’ve seen before stands watch. I’ve noticed him because he has kind eyes and something in me that I can’t quite place calls to him. Bailey stumbles and I grab her arm to keep her steady, it’s technically not allowed – each of us needs to complete our laps self-sufficiently or the data will be considered “compromised.” The guard, Noah his name tag reads, subtly shifts his gaze away from us, blessedly saying nothing. Bailey mouths a word of thanks to me and we keep running. As we cross the finish line, the woman the white coat says, “good work today subjects 5439 and 5440.” We stagger off to the side, desperately trying to fill our heaving lungs with air so cold it feels like daggers.

We’re late! Noah and I are laughing as we grip mittened hands and jog, breathing in the cold evening air. I spot Bailey up ahead of us, just stepping up to the ticket booth. “There’s Bailey!” I pant. “Let’s walk, it looks like she just got her too.” We slow, while keeping our mittened hands clasped together. Bailey turns and sees us, a smile breaking across her face. “Get your tickets,” she says. “I’ll run in and grab us popcorn.” We buy tickets and join Bailey in the theater, where she’s grabbed us all seats. Just as we walk in the house lights go down, impeccable timing. 

In front of me are a range of food options – from a neon green to a dull orange color – and they all look completely inedible. “Begin!” proclaims the woman in the white coat. I spot the guard, Noah, standing off to the side. I take a bite of the one that looks the most innocuous, but as soon as I swallow, my stomach begins to roil. I lean over and puke into the trash can that’s been placed beside me. Each of us, I realize, has a trashcan for this express purpose. The woman in the white coat sees me puking and says, “well, either she has a weak stomach, or that one isn’t a viable food option.” 

I wake up dry heaving, unsure where I am, scrambling to sit upright. Noah puts his arms around me making soothing noises. “Hey, hey – you’re okay, it’s just another nightmare.” I take a cool drink of water from the glass beside the bed and then snuggle down into his arms. The feeling of fear and disgust, the bad taste in my mouth, slipping away. But when I turn on my side to gaze at him, I’m not sure it was a nightmare. Because my life with Noah is so lovely and I wonder, as I sometimes do, if it isn’t real – because this, whatever it is, it surely must be a dream. 

A loud noise blares, it startles me awake and then I’m startled again when I see the guard, Noah, standing right by my bed. I had woken up feeling happy, but the feeling is now seeping away quickly. “Good morning, subject 5440. It’s time to get started with your day.” As I slide my legs out into the cold morning air, he turns back to me. “You always wake up smiling,” says Noah, his familiar eyes latching on to mine, “what’s your secret?” I shake my head, trying to place him. But instead of answering, I just register that I can’t be awake, because this, whatever this is, it surely must be a nightmare.