Empty Spaces

My eyes open to the first rays of morning light filtering through the Venetian blinds. With it, comes an uncertain chill to the room.

Like a tremor in the ripples of time is slowly making its way to me, but I don't know when it will arrive or what in God's name it might be.

Maybe I've given into the throes of paranoia and like to invent things that aren't true. Things I don't understand.

I feel like I'm a displaced, middle-aged woman.

***

I catch the earthy scent of coffee beans brewing. The smell is welcoming, but I don’t need it. Caffein doesn't help.

I remain in bed a little while longer, allowing my train of thought to pick up where it left off before I drifted to sleep in the late hours of the night.

Confusion begins again.

***

There's a moving picture that replays in my mind. It involves an image of a waterfall gleaming in the sunlight. The water is calm as it flows over the top. Gravity seems to have a lesser hold on it.

Strangely, it's as if the water has the consistency of a clear oil. It barely splashes when it makes contact with the lake or pond or river or wherever this place might be. I don't know where it is. I only see the waterfall and the scenic cliff its coming from.

There's always someone behind it. Their image is warped by the flow refracting the light. I know it's someone.

They can see me. I don't know how. I'm not there.

They always stand in place for a few seconds before walking closer to the falls from their side. When close enough, their right arm comes through the water, reaching out with an open palm.

Reaching for me...

It ends there. It always does.

I never know when it will play again...

***

There are people I need to find. People that know I'm a sensible woman. People I can depend on. I need to be with them.

But I can't find their faces.

I don't trust any of the others. They tell me lies. They tell me stories of things that have happened. They try to trick me. Brainwash me.

I believe... I don't know how to trust.

***

A young woman named Sarah comes to visit again today. I don't know her, but she comes to talk to me anyway.

I abruptly tell her to leave after she gives me a few pictures to look at. Pictures of me. I don't know how she got them. Seems intrusive.

She leaves my room pretty upset.

I don't feel responsible. She upset me first.

***

Every day they fabricate lies to try and gain my trust. I wish they would realize that I'm fine. Almost fine.

I'm not in denial.

Denial implies that I know what has happened to me. I'm not in denial.

I only I care about finding my way through this mess. This haze. This inability to ascertain. They need to give me time and space to decide for myself.

***

The doctors claim I'm making progress. That my head injury is healing properly. I don't feel any different. I remain shrouded in a world where everything feels like a lie...

Sarah is still hanging around.

I see her looking at me through the window to my room. Is she stalking me? Why would they allow her to do that?

I wish she would just stay away. I don't know Sarah. I never met her before.

But it's her voice. It does something to me every time I hear it. I wish I knew how to explain.

Maybe that's why I don't want her around. Her voice strikes something in me that causes an unsettling change in the way I think.

When we talked earlier today... it almost felt like I knew what she was going to say. Like rehearsing a script with an actor but I don't know who my character is or any of their lines.

I don't understand what any of it means.

***

Today it's happening more. I get more images. Brief. Like fleeting clues that never expand...

There's a woman. She looks injured.

She doesn't know who caused her pain.

There are people and objects that flash in my head uninvited.

It's a shaggy dog shaking water off its fur. Then an airport and runways and people celebrating... people crying.

And now.

The waterfall. It plays...

It's going further this time.

The person behind it walks through the strange fluid revealing themselves.

It's Sarah?

She reaches out with an open palm. She's smiling.

Is it really Sarah?

Do I know Sarah?

I think…

I think I might be wrong about her.