Acceptance

Preface: I've been writing other things for quite some time and regret to admit that I have neglected sharing my dreams. Though luckily for you the reader I recently had a dream far too powerful not to share. So I present it here for you to enjoy.

My feet were cold but my chest was seething with dripping heat. The numbing blue tiles on the floor were indifferent to the blood I was spilling out of me. The adjacent rooms were silent. The hallway empty of any other patients. I managed to scream,
"Help! Anyone?!" before my mouth was too choked with my own juices. My balance had left me with the last pool of blood I ejected from my body. I used my right hand to grab the operating table close to me. My left hand was too busy clenching my chest trying to dam the estuary of blood. I managed to lift my head once I had reestablished some balance. At the other end of the room there was a phone attached to the wall that matched the floor. Edging towards it was easier as long as my right arm remained anchored to the table; though my thoughts could not focus on the task at hand.

'Who did this? Why is no one here to help me? What did I do?'

I had no answers.

I was desperate for a noise. Anything that might indicate activity, life, just anything! I was almost in reaching distance of a tray by the table that held the shiny operating utensils. They were pristine, not even a fogged up blade from my heaving breath. I could see my face in one of the wider blades. Dark eyes and ever paling skin looked back at me. My beard was trying its hardest to soak up the blood spilling out from my jaw; but beards can only do so much for a man, especially a beard as thin and disproportionate as mine.

A large sharp pain slammed against my back. This was too much for my right arm and I collapsed to the floor clawing for anything to keep me on my feet. My left arm scraped at the tray and the knives, picks, and clamps erupted from their stainless steel bed. My head cracked the tiles as it slammed to the floor, which was the only retribution I would probably get, so I smiled for a second. Alas my thoughts felt it paramount to address something far more important.

'Who just hit me? Are they trying to murder me? If I turn my head can I see them? Can I turn my head? Have I been murdered?'

I could not turn my head. The fall had also broken the dam my left fingers had worked so hard to create. My shirt quickly became drenched by the warm lake emerging from my chest. I stopped trying to get up or lift my head. The cold tiles suddenly felt good against my brow. The heft of my head, legs, and arms left me with every breath. I could only attribute it to the fact that there wasn't enough blood to reach them so my body had to prioritize. Once again my thoughts couldn't help but race to the end.

'I'm only 24, is this really the end? I never thought it would happen this way. Is this really what this feels like?'

My limbs felt light enough to leave the ground as if gravity had reversed. They were ready to betray me and head for the ceiling they felt so light. The white in between the tiles started to swallow up the blue. I didn't move my limbs anymore I had to spend all my energy squeezing out thoughts.

'I thought this would feel far worse. I thought I would be terrified. Sure I didn't get to do all I had set out to do, but this isn't the worst...
This light feeling is pretty relieving actually...
At this rate I'll just evaporate out of here...
My head feels tired...
It's almost all white now I might as well close my eyes...
Things will be okay...'

I awoke at 7:30 that morning and got ready for work a bit earlier than normal. My mind occupied making mundane decisions about which items of clothing to wear, to make breakfast here or get something close to work, and which book to read on the train.

The walk to the train was like most others. I listened to a short song, one that would end before I got to the station. The cold morning air freezing the tips of my hair that hadn't quite dried from the shower yet. I stood at the platform while the train passed searching for where I would sit once the doors opened. I snagged a corner seat by the door and rummaged through my bag for a book of short stories, but before I could get past the cover it was as if a droplet of blood from above had landed on it to remind me of what had transpired.
Though the rest of my day was like any other, I will never forget it, because that morning I remembered what it was to bleed to death on a cold hospital floor.