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Klien Attler Network Cooperative. Select here to end all communications. | |
t was a truth in my family about our gift though we didn't always admit to it. Sometimes we were thought to be crazy until our dreams came to pass. At times we were avoided by the people around us and other times they came for aid.
My grandma told me a story about how her mother had awoken one night covered in sweat. She didn't take the time to put on her boots or a coat, she just bolted out the front door to the neighbors. She watched through her window as her mother ran across the field looking like the ghost of some beautiful lady in her white nightgown, blonde hair flying in the wind.
She returned that morning, her nightgown no longer white, but singed and blackened with soot. It took some time for her to get the smell of smoke out of her hair, but she managed to stop the fire before any harm came to the neighboring family or their farm.
My great-grandma could predict the future with her dreams, but that didn't always mean she could stop it. One day her husband had gone out hunting. My great-grandma Delila begged him not to go. She said he was in danger of being mistaken for a deer. He didn't listen until a stray bullet whizzed past his head. He finally decided to heed his wife's warning and head home. While walking across the back road to get home he was hit by a car. The driver had been injured and was found muttering about hitting a deer.
My grandma Layla told me about her dreams and how her predictions weren't as strong as her mother's but they still came true with some interpreting. She always knew when her husband was doing things he shouldn't. She tried to stop him before he gambled away all their money. He thought her predictions could help him at the track but she told him it didn't work that way. But all it took was her pointing out the winning horse one time and he was hooked.
They had often fought about how she was lying about not being able to predict the winners. He thought she was trying to hold him back. He threatened to divorce her if she didn't help him out. She agreed to the divorce. The day after it went through she went to the races, picked a horse and won more in one day than her husband had in the last five years.
Layla always maintained that it was luck, but her ex-husband never believed it. Since there had not been a prenuptial agreement she got half of everything along with alimony.
I asked my grandma if she had really been okay with him leaving and she said that there would be another man, a better one. She married that man a year later. He had come to town shortly after the divorce on business and met my grandma as she had lunch on a park bench. Before that day my grandma had never sat on that bench let alone ate lunch there. She said she dreamed of that bench the night before and that morning she went to that bench and sat there until he arrived.
?Did you know what he would look like?? I asked her.
?I never really knew what he looked like in the dream, it was more like a blurry figure in the shape of a man. All I knew was that he felt like kindness and warmth and home. He felt like a lifetime of happy memories and children I could pass my gift to,? she answered.
And she did. She passed that gift to my mother and her sister. My mother in turn passed it down to me, the only girl in the family. It was only ever the women in our family who had it and over the generations it had diluted some, but it was still there. Some people dismissed it as ?women's intuition? but we all knew it was a bit more than that.
I often thought that if it had gone back generations upon generations ago it must have been a truly powerful gift to behold. That my ancestors were probably thought of as witches or oracles, but it only went back as far as my great-great grandma. Grandma Layla said her grandma had made some money working as a fortune teller after coming to America, but she got more fortunes wrong than right. Layla said she had to otherwise something bad might happen to her. People were more superstitious where she was from and didn't treat her right. Layla never went into too much detail. I think she was afraid I would reject my gift if I knew.
There really had not been a reason for that, my gift barely existed. It worked more for convenience. I would dream about mundane things like if there was going to be an accident before I went to work. Nothing bad, no injuries, just traffic. I would hear a phone ringing in my dream five minutes before it rang and I would know who was going to be on the other line.
I felt that, with how my gift manifested, my future daughter could look forward to a constant feeling of deja vu and nothing more. Grandma Layla said it could take time for my power to fully manifest, but I was now her age when her first husband divorced her, and older than my great-grandma when she stopped that fire. Even my mother had her strongest premonitions when she was younger than me.
She was stronger than me but still couldn't stop the car crash. Grandma Layla said my mother saw it coming, she told my grandma about it, but she still couldn't stop it. When I was old enough Grandma Layla told me that she saw it too, but she knew something that didn't appear in my mother's dream. She told me that if she had tried to change fate or if my mother tried to stop it that we would have all died in that crash. My brother, my father, and me. She turned the car just enough so that she took the force of the impact. I don't know how she knew how to do that, maybe instinct, but she did. I ended up with a head injury and a concussion but was otherwise fine, the same with my father. My brother was in the ICU for a few days, we thought we might lose him too, but grandma assured us he would be okay, and that was all I needed.
I remember asking her why the accident had to happen, why there was nothing that could be done to change fate. She told me some things just couldn't be changed. My mom's fate was set in stone but ours could be changed at that moment. Sometimes destiny needs a little help and that's what we were for, that's what our gift was for, even if we can't see it at the time.
I understood her words but I never felt like they applied to me. My gift was so useless I couldn't see how I would be able to help fate or destiny whatever it was, along. On the bright side I knew how and when I would be getting a promotion at my job. I knew when I should dump a guy or not bother showing up to the date at all, but beyond that I still hadn't got those fortunes of doom and destruction my elders had gotten. I guess I should be thankful for that.
Some things I could change, but others, if I tried to intervene it would cause the event to happen, which was frustrating. I went along with my life and career trying to do what I could with my little talent. It was more for my mom and grandma than for me. They would have been heart broken if I turned my back on it, especially being the only one in the family now that could pass on that knowledge.
I got ready for work one morning. I avoided wearing the heels I usually wore. I loved them. They hurt like a son of a bitch at the end of the day, but before that I was tall and confident. I woke with a kick that morning as I dreamed I fell down a flight of stairs at work. So I went with a more sensible shoe, thinking that that had been the cause of the fall.
I went to work a little early that morning. I had a meeting that day, I had been preparing for for weeks. My neighbor wished me luck as she left with her twins to school. I told her not to take Grant street. She listened, even if she didn't entirely believe in my gift, she still would listen to an extent. The meeting went well and I walked confidently to the stairs leading down to my office. I could have used the elevator but it often got stuck and it took less time to walk than to ride down.
I began my descent when my shoe slipped on the edge of the stair. I lost my footing and before I knew it I was at the bottom of the staircase. I forgot that the reason I never wore these shoes was because they had terribly slick soles.
I laid in a crumpled mess at the bottom of the stairs. I heard a loud repetitive ?tip-tap? of feet running toward me. Several people came to my aid. Some tried to help me up while others insisted that I shouldn't move. My head was killing me. I felt a large goose egg protruding from above my right eyebrow. One woman grabbed a bucket as a nauseated feeling crept up my throat. Another woman called for an ambulance. I tried to assure them I was okay, but I wasn't. I don't recall it but apparently I had lost consciousness for about ten seconds.
At the hospital the doctor told me I had a pretty severe concussion and my ankle was sprained. He had asked about an old injury he saw on the x-ray of my head. I told him about the crash. He seemed concerned about that and told me I was to stay overnight for observation and that I should be okay to leave the next afternoon, if nothing went wrong.
I tossed and turned most of the night. They gave me something for the raging headache but everything still hurt. They didn't want to give me anything that would be a sedative in case something happened. A nurse checked on me every hour or so. I could feel her watching me try to sleep. Finally I dozed off for a couple hours.
I awoke drenched in sweat with tears streaming down my face. I saw something horrible in my dream- no - in my nightmare. The heart rate monitor they had me attached to was going off like crazy. A nurse and a doctor soon entered my room in a panic.
?Are you alright?? they both asked as the doctor went straight to the monitor to access the issue.
?I-I'm fine. I just- I need to get home right away.?
?I'm sorry but I don't think that would be wise,? the doctor responded.
?Then I need an officer to go to my neighbors apartment.?
?Why would you need that??
?Somebody is going to hurt them,? I blurted out.
?How do you know that??
?I had a dream. My dreams always come true. It's a family thing.?
?You believe your dreams foretell the future??
I hardly ever let people know about my family's gift, mostly because of the condescending tone that was delivered upon me. This doctor had an especially patronizing way of speaking, but that might be the doctor in him.
?Look, I'm sure your neighbors are fine and that it was simply a bad dream. You did have a serious fall with a head injury and that can cause such a thing to happen.?
I wasn't convinced that he believed that. After checking my vitals both he and the nurse left. I grabbed my cell phone and dialed 911.
I explained the situation to the operator, making sure to omit the details about my prediction. Honestly I wasn't really sure what was going on. I had never had a dream this vivid, but I knew it would come to pass if I didn't do something about it.
They did a wellness check, but nothing came of it. The family was just fine, a little shaken from being woken up to an officer in the middle of the night but otherwise fine.
This was the first time I had doubted my talent. It was so real like every other dream. Maybe I was missing something.
I was discharged the next day. I caught the elevator up to my apartment. It was early in the evening by the time I got home. I tried to recall the dream, it was horrifying. A man had broken into my neighbors apartment looking to steal anything he could. I heard a gun go off several times. There was blood everywhere. That man had killed them all. Maybe it was just a dream, I did have a head injury. Who knew how that would affect my ability.
I recalled the dream again trying to think of any detail I missed. It had been raining in the dream which didn't make sense since it had been sunny for days with no cloud in sight. I made myself dinner and tried to shake the last twenty four hours off.
I dozed off for a few minutes after eating. I had only been asleep for about five minutes before I heard a knock on my door. I listened for another and...nothing. I looked down the hall of my building, I didn't see anybody. My head must have been worse than I thought. If that were true I couldn't trust my abilities.
I sat down to watch some t.v. before bed when I heard a loud crack of lightning, then another crack, not lightning. A full downpour sounded through my apartment. Rain! I limped to the door, (ignoring the sprained ankle) thrusting it open in time to see a man I had never seen before about to enter my neighbors apartment. I saw in his hand, a gun. I didn't know what to do, I was a bit shocked that my vision was about to come true. The strongest vision I had ever had. He stopped, staring at me. I panicked as I grabbed the fire alarm just outside my door. There was a loud explosive sound and then my whole body felt numb. I watched his feet run past me and then another set. It was my neighbor's husband. He pressed against my shoulder as his wife dialed 911. Another ambulance ride in less than two days.
I was told that I was lucky that my neighbor was a surgeon. He knew how to slow the bleeding down just enough for the ambulance to make it. I was told I was luckier still that the bullet had just missed my heart. I was in the hospital for a week. It took a while for everything to heal. In time, the head injury I had sustained the day before healed as well and with it my visions returned to what they were before, well, maybe a little stronger.
My neighbor went on to save countless lives. Lives that may have been cut short if that intruder had accomplished his goal. I later found out that his children followed in his footsteps going into medicine. I remained friends with the family.
The night before my daughter was born, I knew trouble was coming. Like his father saved me, the son saved my daughter after a difficult labor. I don't know if I had really helped fate or destiny along that night, but I taught my daughter what my grandma taught me, even if her talent was little more than deja vu.
Patient's P.O.V:
This is my worst nightmare. I'm not sure nightmare is enough of a description. Horror. Misery. Purgatory. No words can explain what I am about to tell you.
The comforting fruits of love's labour had me questioning the validity of my reality. Having shared my body with my dream lover had seemingly put my mind in a state of eternal bliss.
She was sleeping. I could tell by her breathing.
The window was open to aerate the marijuana she had brought to serve as an aphrodisiac. Drugs of any form, outside of alcohol, were not permitted on student residences. We tried masking the odour with incense but had very little luck.
The conflicting aromas' became unbearable after some time. Leading to a nonsensical laughing fit that almost turned deadly.
Mary Magdalena sprayed tears like a hosepipe while simultaneously struggling to breath. On top of that, she had caught severe stomach cramps from the intense contractions. All while her laugh continued against her will.
I had to shoo her like a little baby to get her to stop. Rocking her to silence while massaging her stomach. She was drained by the end of it all. So much so that I had to drag her lifeless body back onto the bed. Saliva dripping from her hanging mouth. Eyes drooping.
She mumbled a coupled of words before passing out at the twelfth hour. I joined her shortly after. Opting to ignore the spilt cider on the window ledge with inconsistent drops dripping on the edge of the duvet. Getting out of bed again, then finding a rag, wherever one could be found, was just too much work by then.
I woke up to the sound of screaming at an undetermined time. Mary Magdalena was panicked beyond reason. Her eyes wide and bulging as she shimmied away from me. Landing with a thud on the floor as she slid herself off the bed unawares. Her body wobbled to the door Using the solid surface to lift herself off the floor.
"Your face." Her face twisted with each word. "YOUR FAAAAACE!" In my panic, my hand was automatically pulled to my face before locating a mirror. The surface where my skin was supposed to be, was sticky. Maroon gel hung off my palm as I slowly pulled my hand away.
Mary Magdalena was sobbing. Her back was against the door, hands clasped on both sides of the frame. I moaned like a small child. Frantically removing myself from the bed to find a mirror.
I broke the wardrobe door in my desperation. Pushing all the cosmetics on the top side shelf to the floor. Grabbing the misshapen "shaving" mirror, my heart pounded through my ears.
It took ages for the mirror to reach my face. When it did, a strong heartbeat punched my adams apple. Followed by a warm wave that swept through my body. Then my vision blurred as my body weakened. The last thing I heard was Mary Magdalene's fading screams.
I woke up with my eyes squinting at the brightness of heaven. Compelling me to ask forgiveness for all of my sins Then the steady beeping came to my attention. Repeating itself enough for me to turn my head in curiosity.
It was a patient monitor. That's when I realised heaven was really just fluorescent lights that were now in better focus. I also noticed the restraints around my wrists.
A nurse showed up after some minutes of my struggling with the sidebars.
"Mr Thilale. You're finally awake" My face was warm but taught. It couldn't have been the charms of the nurse because she had a mask on. Something was restricting my facial movements.
"Stop moving like that or you'll disturb the bandages." I relaxed my body and stopped flipping my head around. She began checking the IV bag and the dial on the catheter connected to my arm.
"What bandages?" I asked. Simultaneously noticing the inability to move my lips in a natural way. "On your face. They're not meant to be disturbed or you'll disfigure yourself even more." "What do you mean even more?"
My heart was pounding against my chest The beeping of the patient monitor picked up momentum accordingly. ?Just relax. Everything will be revealed to you in due time." "No. I want to know now. Tell me," I demanded. The tightening of my arms causing the side railings of the bed to clink. "Mr Thilale. You've experienced a lot of trauma. If you keep jumping and bouncing around like this, you'll only make things worse. Now please."
Being imprissoned to the bed along with her dismissive comments, I grew irritated with her. Opting to shut my mouth in case I allowed her to dragged me further into anger's darkness.
"Good patients always go home better than when they came in. You want to go home eventually don't you?" I ignored her. Unbothered, she continued to adjust the dial on my drip.
?Would you like some water?" I wanted to ignore her some more, but I was dry mouth thirsty. "Yes," I mummbled.
The patient monitor was beeping normally again.
"I'm lowering your analgesia dosage," the nurse said as she moved to another interconnected dial. There were three IV drips in total. I hadn't figured out what the third one was for yet.
"The doctors want an indication of your current pain threshold. I'm taking it down just a little bit," she said as she turned the dial according to the numbers. "I'll come back in twenty minutes. You need to tell me exactly how and what you're feeling during that time ok?"
I imagined myself frowning as I ignored her once again. After analysing the patient monitor and making notes, she seemed satisfied enough to leave the room. Returning with a polystyrene cup with which she proceeded to fill with water from the basin. She stood over the edge of the bed.
"Say Aaah." She held the cup to my lips. I spread them as far as I could and she proceeded to slowly empty the contents of the cup into my mouth.
The moment was blissful. Everything stood still. As if the quenching of my thirst controlled time itself. Unfortunately, the jealous beeping of the patient monitor pulled me back into the dreariness of my reality.
"I need to pee," I said. Hoping this would compel her to untie me so I could get out of the bed. "You have a urine bag connected to you so don't worry about that. Just let it flow." I slumped back into the mattress of defeat. Turning my head to face the open window on the other side of the room.
I was beginning to feel a tingling sensation on my face.
"Will there be anything else before I leave?" the nurse asked. I ignored her some more. "Ok well, suit yourself Mr Thilale. Just remember that I'm the only genuine care you're getting right now."
She packed up her medical parephernalia and walked away. Her steps disappeared into the commotion of noise as soon as she opened the door. Then immediate silence as the door slid shut. Leaving me alone, still tied to the bed, with a growing tingling sensation on my face.
It had been about fifteen minutes or so that I began banging on my bed. ?Nurse,? I called out gently. Unable to shout because of my wrapped up face. And the dread of nerve stimulation from the slightest facial movement. I had tried shouting the first time. Jabbing my face with a million bee stings for the effort.
"Nurse help me." My face was suddenly and rapidly catching on fire. There was a line of itching along the left-hand side, down the eye and further down to the chin, then up the right ear to the forehead.
The inner circumference of this configuration was my axis of pain. The harshest being around the upper nasal area and the right side of my mouth. It felt like my face was sinking into my skull.
"NUUUUUUUURSE!" I could no longer hold back. The bed became my enemy at this point.
I did manage to move it out of position but not anywhere near the door. As a matter of fact, I was now further away. The sidebars were clanking as loud as I could make them. Their sharp sound giving me the motivation to keep yanking.
I could feel my wrists chaffing hard. The fibre between my bones was struggling to stay attached. But that was nothing compared to what was going on with my face.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHH!" The sidebars were flapping from side to side. Instinctively, my hands wrapped around the stubborn metal from both sides. Using brute strength, I flexed my arms and stomach. Attempting to pull the bars out of position. The assembled metal was grating against the resistance of the screws. The patient monitor bleeped away hysterically.
I took a momentary breather. Relaxing my face just long enough to remember the pain all over again. With another desperate flex of my muscles, coupled with the unavoidable and excrutiating contractions of my face, the sidebars ripped off the upper half of the bed
The sound of screws dropping and rolling away on the floor prompted me to sit up. Quickly turning to my right side and pulling a bar with me. The needle from my catheter flew out with a squirt of blood in hot pursuit.
I thought I heard my name being called out. It could have been my imagination. Whether it was or wasn't, I did not care.
The bed lifted from the bottom left corner. Throwing me off the mattress. Landing on my feet, I yanked the bar with determined aggression. Snapping it completely loose on the third try. Using the unhindered hand, I assisted the other to rip that bar free as well.
There was a rush at the door. Whoever it was, they were too late. I held the liberated sidebars in my hands like clubs. Ready to swing at anyone who attempted to come through.
"Let's not do this again Mr Thilale," a male nurse said as two of them barged in. They were both bigger than me. A uniformed security guard was with them.
The female nurse was also trying to sneak through the door. There was something in her hand but I couldn't look quickly enough to ascertain what it was. The three lugs were lunging at me so I needed absolute concentration. Swinging with the knowledge of not allowing them to catch my makeshift weapons. Backing them up and out of the door in the process.
?Stop! Mr Thilale! Think about what you're doing! We're trying to help you! Calm down man!? The multiple orders were coming in with loud and rapid succession. Making it difficult to pinpoint who was saying what.
I tried to barricade the door with the bed but my assailants were persistent. Kicking the door to interrupt my attempts time and time again. What made it more difficult was this was a double door so I was having to make double the effort. The three of them never let up on taking turns to catch the bars whenever I tried to jab or swing at them.
The door was 3 quarters closed when one of them stuck their hand through to grab a bar, which they did. Permitting me to guillotine swing right onto the bony part of their inviting arm with the free bar.
The owner of the arm hollered their way into the commotion outside just before I slammed and propped the door shut with the bed. There was a momentary halt to proceedings right at this moment.
I took this three or four-second break to jam the bed further into the duel door handles. Not without great difficulty as I still did not have the full functionality of my hands and wrists But with heart and determination, I was able to secure the bed between the door handles and the ground.
Without a moment's hesitation, I advanced towards the large three panel window on the opposite side of the room. Punching the middle glass with my metallic arm extensions, a loud crash filled the room. Then a crystallic after-sound rushed towards the tarred parking area below.
I peeped over the window frame. It was at least five floors down. There was banging on the door.
They had acquired a heavy object and were attempting to take down the door. I guessed that by now they had acquired other objects for use after the door came down. I most likely broke a staff members arm after all. There were more of them too. I could hear more voices than before.
I needed to make a decision. Surrender, or take the dive. My face had been hurting so undeviatingly that it now felt like a numbed heartbeat. I couldn't focus like I wanted to anymore.
The bed had moved out of position. One more hit would unhinge it from the door handles it so desperately clung on to. The door itself was being assaulted off of its hinges.
I smashed the remaining jagged glasses sticking out of the windowpane. Then I grabbed the mattress. Lifting it straight up in line with my body.
The bed, then the door, came crashing down. "Hey! What are you doing!" Footsteps clambered towards me. "Mr Thilale No! NO! ? NOOOOOOO!"
***
Nurses' lunch break gossip:
"Did you hear about the coma patient in Ward D?" said nurse Thokozile. "The one who jumped?" asked nurse Yaya. "Yes. How insane was that?" "Unbelievable."
It was tea-break for the afternoon shift nurses. As per routine, they shut themselves inside the administration office with cookies and juice.
"Apparently they're still looking for him," Yaya said. "How he survived I don't know," added Thokozile.
"What was the problem anyway?" asked nurse Nunuza. "No-one knows," Thokozile replied.
"The authorities are doing everything to keep it under wraps. I heard the nurses and doctors involved were threatened to keep quiet."
"Threatened how?" asked Nunuza. "I don't know. But they won't speak to anyone about it. They make up stories instead. And they've all been acting strange. Well, the doctors are always strange. Dingane and Eric are Dingane and Eric." They all gave a unified huff and eyebrow drop.
"But Rose has been noticeably strange. She'll always talk about her patients. Which one's are problematic or weird." "True," Nunuza and Yaya said in unison.
"This patient is the only one she wouldn't talk about. Besides telling me he had reconstructive facial surgery, she would always bounce around any other questions you asked. Wouldn't talk about his progress chart or anything. It was all just strange"
Thokozile stared at the open window with a cookie floating on the crack of her lip. "Like she knew something she wasn't supposed to."
"And the guard that was stationed at the door," Yaya interrupted. "Yes. What was up with that? Was the patient a criminal or something?" Nunuza asked.
"Well, as we know, he was in a coma when he arrived."
"It was like four days or something right?" Yaya asked.
"Yes. He came to on the fourth, he was aggressive and violent towards the staff. So they anaesthetized then restrained him. After that, the weirdness started."
Thokozile's eyes widened as she began to spread her arms.
"Guarded doors, secretive colleagues, restricted access." Crumbs were flying off her biscuit that was getting crushed between the tight grip of her fingers.
"Never mind that. What about what the patient did to Eric?" Nunuza interjected. "His arm was completely mangled. They're talking amputation from the information I got. They're saying this guys strength was not human for someone his size."
"Well, jumping five story's with a mattress then running off like it didn't happen, I think he qualifies as not human." Yaya quipped. ?And where was the door guard when he actually needed to be doing his job??
?Samuel from the diagnostics lab says he met him in the men's bathroom round about the time the drama took place,? Nunuza replied.
"Oh my God," Yaya said looking at Nunuza with an animated face.
The irony caused the ladies to giggle in unison.
?Something beyond our comprehension is going on and I hope this is the last incident we have." Thokozile said after a brief pause brought the seriousness back to the conversation.
"If the patient could fend off bulky men like that in the condition he was in, I don't think we should be dealing with people like that in the future. The hospital needs to protect its staff from dangers of that nature. Ship patients like that to facilities equipped for those types of situations.?
"I agree one hundred per cent," Yaya interjected.
"This was all handled incorrectly Management knew what was going on but they kept the patient here anyway. It's not right."
"That's right," Thokozile interjected in turn.
"We deserve to know what kind of patients sit in our rooms so we're prepared. Situations like this are a nurse's worst nightmare.?
?Amen sister,? Yaya and Nunuza exclaimed.
?Anyway, let's just thank God it's over,? Thokozile concluded.
"Thank God. Amen and Hallelujah." Nunuza quipped.
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