Rumors of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated

I caught myself again. I was signing some paperwork at work, and realized that for the year space, I wrote 2018. Except it’s definitely not 2018- it’s been three years now since 2018 came and went. I can never figure it out, but my brain always sends me to 2018.

And you know what, come to think of it - I always catch myself saying I’m 28. But I’m not. I’m 32- well past the oops-I-messed-it-up year. Funny enough- I was 28 in 2018. There’s gotta be a correlation.

I have also been having horrible dreams later. Total blackness, no concept of self, just endless chatter I can’t understand. It’s so overbearing. Either that, or it’s dreams of my chest splitting open at my surgery site, which by the way, has been aching a lot the past few days.

This morning when I used the bathroom before our work meeting, I had a super freaky imagery pop up. I was standing at the sink washing my hands, and when I looked up in the mirror, I suddenly saw myself standing there in a hospital robe, and my chest was open and exposed. I heard some sort of yelling, like it was far away coming out of a tunnel. I splashed water in my face and quickly left the bathroom.

The meeting started. I was semi tuned out until I noticed everyone staring at me.

“Eva, wake up.” my boss said.

I laughed and said, “Sorry, I’m a little distracted this morning.”

Then my manager spoke, except she had my mother’s voice. “Please wake up, we miss you.”

I was baffled. “What are you talking about?”

My receptionist leapt out of her chair, and when she spoke, she had a deep man voice. “She’s losing a lot of blood! We need to get this dried out stat, so we can close her up!” Her hands were jerking back and forth with erratic motions that made no sense.

“Is this some kind of sick joke, you assholes?” I said to my peers. Everyone was still just staring at me.

My manager spoke, again with my mothers voice. “Eva, don’t let go. Wake up!”

I pushed back too quickly when I tried to get away from the table, and the chair tipped backwards. Unable to stop myself from falling, my head cracked the floor when the chair landed. I blacked out.

* * *

The next thing I remember was brightness. Bright light in my face. Feeling extremely cold. And wet. I opened my eyes and saw my mother, crying. She was holding my hand. I stood at the end of the bed, watching my mother sob over my unmoving corpse. The nurse called the time, and the doctor signed the paper. They turned off the light, and left my mother to grieve.