nightmare

I was standing by a pond, when I noticed a sickly looking duck under the surface. Its eyes were half closed, and it looked nearly dead. I contemplating saving it, but I felt it was beyond hope.

I recalled reading somewhere that the end stage of drowning can be almost calm. Was would be the point of saving the poor thing? It would only suffer another minute before dying anyway.

Suddenly the duck seemed to come to life again, and it kicked away a stone then swam to the surface. It had only gotten one of its feet stuck under a rock! I felt bad for standing by idly.

I looked back at the duck, and it was now a cute little mammalian creature, with fur and a tiny blowhole. It seemed happy. I was glad it had no resentment toward me. Some water had flooded over a nearby sidewalk, and I followed as it swam up. I remembered what this creature was now, this was a bear cub. All bear cubs are aquatic in their youth.

But... if this was a bear. Oh god. I turned around, and found myself staring straight at Momma Bear. She was not pleased. Yep this was it, time to die.

I was laying down on a scrappy mat in a hospital. What was going on? I felt weak and incoherent.

I overheard one of the nurses saying that my kidneys were failing. Strangely this was a little comforting because at least my sudden arrival to this scene made some sense. I must had passed out and been brought to the ER.

I asked the nurse what was happening, and she told me that I had stopped taking my "beauty pills" and that these were the results. Beauty pills, once you're on 'em, you can never go back.

Now I couldn't fathom why I'd decide to take beauty pills, but I just accepted this as truth and figured they'd just give me these pills again and I could go home. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Time skipped ahead and I was looking at myself in the mirror. The left side of my nose was extremely swollen, and it seemed to be getting worse by the second.

I went outside to go find help, but shortly my tongue started to swell too. My mouth was forced open by the swelling. I tried to talk to someone to get help, but all that came out was an unintelligible "mmmmffffbbllooooggggdd".

People looked at me like I was nuts. Oh well, some days just suck.

I had a fabric doll, with skinny arms and spindly legs.
I think her name was Helen.

I was walking at night, holding Helen. I was sleepwalking. Yes I must have been sleepwalking. Helen wanted me to walk into my parent's room. Why not do what Helen wanted?

Flash forward, I was in a bar. I didn't know how I got there. Did Helen want me to drink? Was I an alcoholic?

Flash forward, I was talking to a friend. I asked him how old I was. It felt like an awful lot of time was passing. I didn't know what to make of these time skips. Was I sleepwalking through them? When I was sleepwalking, was I doing what Helen wanted?

Did Helen want anything? Was Helen just a doll? Had I finally lost it completely?

Flash forward, I had decided to burn Helen.
I tossed Helen into the fire but she refused to burn.
I tore Helen apart.

Terrible luck, to be mauled by a jaguar.

But strikingly good luck to have access to a jaguar surgeon! She gently adjusted the angle of my head, remarking on my "giraffe like" features. I knew that all animal injury surgeon specialists were like this, seeing animals in every person they operated on. She was the real deal. I was in good hands.

She walked off for a bit, and out came the jaguar. And wouldn't you know it, she got mauled too. Oh she didn't look so bad, but there was no more jaguar surgeon for me, she needed to find one of her own now.

I didn't remember being mauled by a jaguar, come to think of it. How did that even happen? Why was this jaguar just roaming about the zoo? Did it jump the moat? Aren't jaguars in cages?

I guess it didn't matter, because here I was, bleeding to death. It was an amusing fate honestly. I almost laughed.

Then, a crazy idea.

What if instead of a jaguar surgeon I got a regular surgeon? What was so jaguar specific about this injury anyway!?!

I felt like a genius! I called out for help. I begged some folks nearby to call an ambulance! But they insisted that the jaguar surgeon was out of commission. How was I to be helped without her? I tried to reason with them, but they couldn't understand. This was pointless.

I was inching forward on my stomach now. There was no pain, but I was getting very weak. I dragged myself away, and happened to find my father sitting there on a bench. Surely, my old man would react quickly to save his son!

I begged him, call a surgeon, any surgeon (covered by my insurance, please)! He looked confused. Surely this was a job for the jaguar surgeon?

Truly, this was not a world worth living in. I resigned myself to my death.