Disorientation

[plural]

I woke up shortly before four am this morning
the darkness was complete
as if my eyes had never opened

entirely unaware of where I was
something was very wrong

my pulse was elevated
my palms clammy
my mouth dry as the desert

my brain trying to decipher conflicting information
groping through the enveloping darkness
to establish those basic parameters of existence

where am I
and
am I safe

urgent cries in Hebrew echo in my ears
sounds of gunfire broke the silence
a man screams in pain

every grain of my being wants to place me
ten thousand miles away
ten years ago

but my mind resists
even in the midst of confusion
it tries to tell me that is all past
another time
another life

my senses argue this is no dream
I am awake now and the terror is real

those first fleeting moments
upon awakening
where your mind reorients itself
to the surroundings it departed
the night before
seem to stretch on for an eternity

as I struggle to determine
what is now and what is memory

my sanity overcomes my senses
and firmly re-establishes my mind
in this current time and place

not that street in Jerusalem so many years before

I shake my head
freeing myself of those last cobwebs
but I am still not free

sitting in the dark
listening to the distinct sound of automatic weapons
and panicked Hebrew
I know I am not there
but I cant seem to rid my mind
of that hollow auditory illusion
soft in the background

I get up
turn on the light
walk across the hall to the bathroom
and wash my face
staring at my pale reflection
in the dim luminescence of the night light
I question my sanity
am I hearing echoes of memory
residuals from a time long gone

the act of washing my face
seeing myself in the mirror
has a grounding effect

I have not slipped through a hole
in the time space continuum

my critical mind engages
and I go looking for answers

entering the living room
it all becomes all to clear

I left the television on the night before
and playing on that small screen
is an Israeli war movie

sighing
I shut it off
amble into the kitchen
for a glass of water
and make my way back to bed

some memories
are not welcome
but I fear
they will remain with me always

Comments

[dew.livejournal.com]

Your experiences are so broad that I cannot imagine. I feel sheltered, not that that's a bad thing.