Zhengzhou, China. Disoriented and exhausted. A constant bombardement of incomprehensible foreign information had begun taking its toll. The days pased in the shadow of a throbing in my temple. That no amount of rest would ease.
Tired, I went off to bed. The unrelenting pounding in my head refusing to cease. I rolled onto my side, arm outstretched and numbing slowly under the weight of my head. Pins and needles slowly working their way up my arm, my ability to move and wobble my fingers fadded.
Something. A soft voice. Speaking in what I can only assume was mandarin, whispered to me from the far side of the bed. Frozen stiff, I had become completely paralyzed, unable to turn my head. The voice faded until inaudible and then became louder, taunting, moving around the bed. Louder and louder, rambling frantically.
My world had shrunk to the confines of my room. Had I fallen asleep? Why can’t I move? Terrified I listened as the foreign voice multiplied. A woman now, and a child. Yelling.
The floor fell out from under me. Falling, endlessly. The walls darkened and shot up, with incredible speed, to the sky, taking the form of Chinas skyscrapers. An overwhelming sense of the insignificance of my existence washed over me.
Awake. But not by waking. I shot up in bed, sweating and confused.
This ‘dream’ remains the most vivid and terrifying experience of my life. The small amount of time between laying down and being surrounded by voices making it hard to believe I fell asleep. Was it some kind of exhausted daydream? Maybe. Did it mean something? Probably not. But it sure stuck in my head.