A SurReal Life Experience.
Suddenly, I was standing at the bottom of a hill that my friends and family usually sled on. I saw them on a nearby slope, calling to me. With each footprint I made into the old snow, the prior erased from my mind. Instead of normal vision and sound, I saw thoughts. My father, my goals in life, and for whatever reason I was saturated with terror. Why? Why was I terrified? Upon asking myself this, I became even more terrified because I couldn’t deduce an answer.
Just keep moving in the direction I’m facing and I’ll be fine. I think.
I remained in this miserable state for hours, and instantly I reached the top of the hill with my little sister, and a friend. We had no time to talk, because the scene changed immediately to that of our car. The scene change induced a reality check… However I was awake. Just what was going on? My sister told me that it was the fifth time I’ve reality checked within the last five minutes. I insisted it was the first. The friend added that I kept muttering something about an “occipital lobe.” … … …
I’m fine. Were we sledding? Are you sure? How did the sled get back into the car? No, I am not the one who put it there! We were sledding? No, I’m fine. Really.
I stayed quiet for only a few minutes, because then I forgot about my hoax that I was ‘fine.’ My friend tends to overreact about medical issues, and I didn’t want to further worry them. I double-checked the digital clock, but even though I concentrated I could not remember if the numbers changed. I supposed they didn’t.
We were sledding, you say? … Ha, yes, it was a joke, Sarah (not really her name, but to assure them that I was ‘joking’). Was I unconscious? I wasn’t? Yes, I promise I’ll stop repeating myself now.
I checked myself for knowledge. Yes, I could still do calculus. Yes, I still knew about lucid dreaming. Yes, I remembered my psych class. Antegrade amnesia then flitted into my head and made a lasting impression. I began to sob. Great. We’re home already, and I can scarcely remember the car trip! I’m screwed. Screwed, screwed, screwed.
Thank you for the hot chocolate; it’s very tasty. No, I don’t think I’ll take a nap right now, thank you for asking. Yes, I would be very happy if we could all watch a movie together.
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Unfortunately, my first bout with a concussion was not as ‘pleasant’ as my first faint (which also happened relatively recently, when I got up too fast after donating blood). I was frightened at points, but could control myself to give a calm outer appearance. The whole incident lasted around thirty minutes, but I’m not entirely sure. It’s approximately four hours later, and the amnesia has ceased.
I can now remember (very vividly) the moments leading up to the sled accident. I remember whiffing the smoke of a cigarette as I ascended the slick hill; I remembered chuckling at a young Hispanic girl who feared la montaña as family coaxed her in Spanish to slide down so they could take another picture. I remember an old guy without snow pants laughing as he sled down a nearby hill, getting covered in the white powder, but not seeming to care. I went down feet first, and could not see the recently constructed bump at the bottom until it was too late.
I still can’t replace the gaps in my memory from after I hit the bump. I neither remember putting the sled in the car, nor physically climbing up the hill (I only remember thoughts), nor most of the ride home, nor the questions about my name, age, and address they asked. My friends, although they had not actually seen the fall, soon caught on that I had a concussion, despite some efforts on my part to ease their suspicions. “There is no other reason she’d want to stop sledding after the first ride down!”
The back of my head hurts, now. >___<
