I woke up at 3.30 AM, to the feeling of someone pulling at my toes.
Images of people in white, covered in splashes of blood, body parts missing, on an open bus, raiding the streets harassing others for body parts still vivid in my head. The instinct to protect my mom and my sister still strong and real. And of course, the heart that wouldn't stop racing.
The last time I had a nightmare was definitely more than 4 months ago.
Getting a nightmare is no big deal, I don't stay terribly afraid for a long time that night. All that stopped when I was a kid. It's just that feeling of unrest that prevails.
If I had a nightmare, I used to hold my mom's hand and go back to sleep. And all was well again.
That was long ago too.
For the past 4 years, every time I had a nightmare I used to call him or message him. Even if he were asleep, and all I did was text my nightmare, it still felt fine. Because I had gotten it out of my system.
When I was at my college hostel for 2 years, I always had the option of just walking down the road at any point of the night and find someone to talk to, to take my mind of the nightmare. Even then, if/ when I didn't want to find someone, he was just a call or text away.
Last night, there was no one to call or text.
No one to tell me it'll be alright, and make me laugh about something silly again.
I woke up this morning, still feeling restless, Anger much closer to the surface than it has been for a while.
The nightmare wasn't what occurred in my sleep last night, that was just a bad dream. The real nightmare, the one I'll have to live with, was the realization that struck when I woke up because of the bad dream.