Nightmare

The Nightmare

I screamed. It was louder than last time. I opened my eyes and did my best to sit up as quickly as possible. I was drenched in sweat; I could feel it trickle down my spine. I used the duvet to wipe my brow the best I could. I squinted my eyes to see the clock, what time was it? The light of the moon through my window caught the plastic clock face; it was just after 4 am. Last night it was it was just after 3 am when I woke up screaming and crying. There seems to be a pattern emerging. All this week, I’ve been waking up screaming, later and later into the night. Does this mean it will happen at night?

There is ache in my stomach. I’ve been having these aches for days. The doctor says it’s nothing to worry about and that it’s probably hungry, that I’m stressed and need more rest. Rest? All I do is rest, well physically anyway; emotionally I’m tense all the time. I feel my shoulders tense up whenever someone asks me how I am, how it’s doing. I just smile and say, ‘everything is fine’. But it isn’t, it hasn’t been for months. These aches are getting worse, I can’t sleep, and my nightmares are unbearable. They seem so real that every time I wake up, I think that something has happened.

My throat is dry is from the screaming so I hold my stomach and waddle slowly to the kitchen in the dark. The water isn’t cold enough but I’m suddenly so thirsty I don’t care. As I finished my glass I get a sharp pain, it makes me flinch so quickly I drop the glass. It shatters around my feet. I stumble backwards just missing the pieces of glass. The pain turns to a throbbing and I make my way back to my bed.

I sit carefully on the side of the bed and take a few deep breaths before climbing back into bed. The sheet is uncomfortable hot and my pillow is still slightly damp from my sweating neck. Usually in these situations I curl up into a ball, face down, but I can’t.

Scared to fall asleep again, I just lie, helpless on the bed and stare at the ceiling. My eyes sting but I refuse to sleep, not yet. I worried I’ll have another nightmare. These nightmares have been happening almost every night for months. Every time I try and tell someone, they brush it aside and say ‘its only dreams, you’ll fine when it happens’. But I won’t, I know I won’t. I never wanted to this to happen, it wasn’t in the plan.

I look up at the clock again, moonlight glaring through. He’ll be home soon, an hour maybe. I didn’t want him to take the night shifts but he insisted, ‘more money’ he said. It isn’t worth it. I told him about the nightmares, he said after this week he won’t do any more night shifts. He was worried about me. I look at the clock again. Not long now. My eyes feel heavy and the pain it just too great so I give in and shut them. I feel a calm wash over me and I am asleep.

I open my eyes; everyone is standing around the bed, all wearing white coats and masks over their mouths. At first I’m confused at what’s going on. Everyone looks at each other and then at me, but not my face but at my enormous round belly. I look at it and for a moment I wonder why it looks this way. Then the second passes and I start screaming. Two people at either side of me grab my arms and hold me down. The room starts to filter out and only a handful of people are left. But then I look to my left; there is a huge window, almost the size of the wall and all the people who left are sitting behind this window, watching me. For some reason this calms me down for a moment. The other people left in the room are busy prepping for something to happen, putting on gloves and scrubs. A light overhead is switched on; the light is so bright it blinds me temporarily. I hear voices and movement, equipment being moved, a monitor going at full speed, but I am quiet.

My eyes begin to adjust to the lights and I focus on what is in front of me, my huge swelled belly. Something inside is moving from side to side, the pain is excruciating, I wonder if I’ll pass out. The pain turns to a jabbing feeling, like a blunt knife is being pulled around my insides. I cry out in pain. Someone dabs me with a damp cloth, attempting bring down my escalating temperature, this doesn’t help. I am still retrained so I try moving my legs, but they are too heavy to operate. I feel a needle go into my right arm, but the pain doesn’t go away. I am pushed onto my back and told to ‘PUSH’. What do they mean, push? I can feel sweat falling down my face, I shut my eyes and do my best to push. Nothing happens.

The voices of the other people become raised and panicked. I look around for answers but with everyone wearing masks I can’t see anything. I feel so overwhelmed with stress and confusion I think I might burst. Suddenly, from nowhere, a screen appears between my lower and me half. The swelled belly is now out of sight, but I can still feel pain. I feel another needle go into my left arm and a third into my stomach. I feel things happening behind the curtain but there is hardly any pain. After what seem a few minutes the curtain is removed. My belly is open, the masked people start to stitch me up, everywhere is covered in my blood and the room is calmer now. The monitor slowly beeps back to a normal rate. The people behind the window all react to something a masked person in the room is holding. I look forward as the last stitch is sewn. Things are cleared away and the masked person holding that something walks over to me. I am terrified. What is this? Why are they bringing it to me? They lean forward and show me what they have. It is small baby, wrapped in a blue blanket, it is sound asleep. They hand the baby to me and I hold him close. I stare at him for a long while and begin to cry, silently. One by one the masked people leave the room until I am left alone.

As I stare at him, my tears turn to sobs until I am shaking all over. I cry louder and harder. Not because I am happy or relieved but because this is not what I wanted, this is not what I had planned. I cry for this baby that I don’t want. I have an urge to get up and leave but I am too tired to move. I cry louder until my cries turn into screams. I am crying and screaming so much that my throat dries and my face feels like plastic with all the tears. All through this, the baby in my arms is sound asleep. I cry out one last time in desperation.

I open my eyes. I am drenched in sweat. Tears stain my face. I look down at my stomach and say to myself, ‘only 2 months left.’