Unconscious Blindness

“There is no coming to consciousness without pain.” – Carl Jung

Why the hell can’t I open my eyes?!

I know I’m awake, somewhere. My body appears to be intact. Whole. Functional. But there is light, I can see light through my eyelids. Dim, a lamp in a far corner of the room. I’m trying to ignore the panic rolling through my stomach like a tidal wave, trying to ignore it out of existence before it can come crashing down and leave me in hysterics.

The surface under me is hard, too hard to sleep on comfortably and yet I am strangely well rested. Stiff in the pressure point spots, but relatively refreshed. It is quiet but for the sounds of my own breathing. The current in the room has shifted ever so slightly, perhaps the air conditioning turning on? The movement in the air brings to me the dull smell of flowers long since wilted.

Where the hell am I?!

I’m shocked to find my voice sounds strangled. I must reel it in. I must find a way to contain this terror. Here I am with no imminent danger and I am flying to pieces. Breathe. Just breathe. In and out. 700 or so breaths later…

Now. How the hell do I get out of here?

Better. Growing accustomed to the quiet, to the sightlessness of my new existence. Better.

Suddenly there is a bright burst of light that knocks me back into my too hard seat. It’s coming from my right. At first the panic threatens, but there is something about this light. It’s friendly. Natural in some way. More breath. And I’m standing, hands outstretched, feet shuffling slowly one in front of the other so I don’t dent my shins or nose on something in my path. The light is so bright in front of me that I can see the veins in my eyelids, bright blue in a webbed pattern across my vision. This must be sunlight. It feels almost cheery.

I’m close now, to what must be a doorway. It’s channeling the light right into my face, concentrating it into one firm beam. As I cross the threshold, the faint sound of birds chirping reaches me, the distant smell of laundry baking under the hot sun. But there’s something wrong. I can’t feel it. There’s no warmth, there’s no relief to be in this light. There is just a new kind of dread. Because it doesn’t make any sense. Where is the heat? Where is the sense of security that comes from looking up into the sun?

Without introduction, there is someone with me now. I can feel him next to me. Him? Yes definitely, he smells like water. Ethan! It’s Ethan! What the hell is he doing here?

Ethan!! Please, I can’t see, my love, I can’t open my eyes, please help me, you’ve got to help me!

My hands raise to find his face and find his hair instead, all urgency erased I take a moment to revel in just running my fingers through his short hair. Grateful for his presence in this place that makes no sense. I can hear water dripping somewhere and I think maybe he’s just gotten out of the shower, but his hair isn’t wet. But he smells so completely like water, my favorite smell on him. Just the soft scent of his skin rising up through my nose and going straight to my head. I let my fingers dig deeper through his hair trying to trace my way down to the features on his face. But I can feel him disappearing before he’s actually gone.

Distress bubbles up through my throat in the form of a hoarse scream. There are tears in my eyes and flowing down my cheeks. I am scrambling for him before he’s faded completely away. I cannot hold him.

I’m on my feet, running wildly, trying to follow him. But he’s gone. There is no trace that he was ever here with me. I’m on my knees now, my legs no longer strong enough to carry me.

I don’t understand any of this. None of this makes any sense.

There is a jolting smell coming to me now. Bleach I think. It’s burning my nose and throat to the point where I’m starting to wonder if I’m actually drinking the stuff. I’m crawling away from its source, trying to find my way back to the light, trying to get away from the clinical coldness of this smell. I can feel the hardness against my bare legs and the palms of my hands, as if I never really left my original spot, just crawled up onto it. But I have moved, haven’t I? I remember walking, I remember going through the threshold into the room of light, don’t I? I must have, Ethan was here, he was with me. But I have no proof of that, the bleach has scrubbed every smell out of my memory.

I don’t know how long I’ve sat here. I stopped counting my breaths at about 500. Lost count in an effort to bring myself back to present tense. Above my breaths I can hear a beeping now. It’s so faint at first that I’m fairly sure I’ve made the whole thing up. But as I hold my breath I can definitely hear it and it’s growing louder. Moving towards me? Or just turning up the volume?

I’m going to stand up now, I’m going to find that noise and figure out where the hell it’s coming from. I’m not entirely sure I can trust my legs though, so I opt for crawling instead. Safer. Plus I’ve got myself talked into thinking that I’ll be able to prove I’ve actually moved if I crawl.

Holding my breath again I think I’ve got the sound pinpointed. Off to my left now, but higher. Maybe coming from the ceiling? If there is one. Panic, the panic is back. NO. I will move my left hand. Then I will move my right leg. Then I will move my right hand and then my left leg. Here I go. I’m moving. And the beeping is getting louder. And I’m making progress, hell yes, I’m making progress!!

There is one final, deafening beep then and everything is quiet. And utterly black. My toes are going numb. I can’t feel my fingers. The darkness is starting to trickle down my throat and fill in my ears. It’s like getting swallowed by some creature forgotten by time; I cannot believe what is happening. And I can’t breathe.

Wait! Wait, why the hell can’t I breathe?!

I bend my entire will to the sole purpose of taking in breath. I will breathe. NOW. I will breathe RIGHT NOW!

And suddenly, my eyes pop wide and the breath screeches down my throat to fill my depleted lungs.

Before I am able to pull focus on anything there is a tremendous amount of noise, clattering around me, a whirl of colors. But there, just there, it smells like water…

I cannot allow myself to blink. I cannot go back to the swallowing depths. I can feel my eyes wheeling in their sockets looking for something, but I can’t see anything yet. Just light and there is so much noise. But the breath is coming more easily now, it doesn’t hurt quite as badly so I focus on smoothing out the rhythm of my intake, attempting to temper the expulsion of exhausted breath into a less ragged pattern.

The noise is starting to organize itself now. The beeping is back now and there are voices, clamoring to be heard. Finally, there is but one voice and I do not recognize it.

“Kara? Kara, you’ve been in a coma. Can you hear me?”