The Worst Nightmare

I swear, I'm still reeling. Is what this what they call post-traumatic stress disorder? Is that what this is? How can it get you so far down the line? How can it be so perversely detailed, almost like a script from GOD HIMSELF, written just to fuck you up?

I've not had anything special to drink, although I'm drinking now to come out of this horror, and didn't take any special medicine beyond the usual.

But here is my nightmare. I swear it went beyond two hours, real time.

I'm on a plane. The plane is taking me to Tokyo. Except where I want to go is Osaka. There, no problem. But now I'm in that nebulous half-real world, speaking Japanese, fumbling for my passport, and oh, shit, where is my carry-on?

And then all of a sudden I'm at Narita. But I realize that my journey is far from over. I still have to make it to Osaka.

I can read the signs, but they're perversely all in Japanese, with no English translations. So I have to pay special attention. This is still okay. But I'm walking the walkway and going through this maze of halls and all of a sudden I realise that I have my house shoes on and I'm walking onto ice. I'm chatting in Japanese with people around me, but now I forgot what I did with my carry-on. Do I have my ticket?

I'm sliding on the ice, really worried, now, but all of a sudden I'm running. But running on a highway, in the middle lane. I know there are cars behind me but I can't run any faster. I try to follow the Japanese signs saying "Osaka".

Somehow I make it -- transition back to airport. I'm on a walkway again but now being funneled to a tiny passageway, which all travellers to Osaka have to walk through. I shrug and joke with my fellow travellers in Japanese but the passageway is getting narrower and all of a sudden I realise that there are no signs any more. Am I still going to Osaka? Am I going to miss my plane?

I can tell you, the first sight that greeted my eyes was the alarm-radio's unblinking blink. And then Brigitte going to the bathroom. And the sun shining somewhere outside. I have categorically never been happier to see those sights in this entire world.

God, if this is what post-traumatic stress disorder is all about I can fully understand why people just go off the rails. How can a nightmare about flying to Osaka be so bad? No one died. I didn't kill bad guys. But it was SO BAD.

Like one continuing movie you just can't turn off. I'm really scared of going back to sleep. It's like some giant hand came and decided to slap me and say, "Hey, you know what? Everything is really NOT okay."

I'll try. All that can save me from the nightmare is the daymare, and all that can save me from that is the night. So that is where I will try to go again.