The first time it happened, I thought it was a day dream. I was still in the hospital, but I was gradually becoming more lucid. I had just woken up, and the nurse was adjusting my IV. She was pretty, a woman in her twenty-somethings with golden brown skin and tightly curled hair. She put one of her hands on my arm as she adjusted my IV, and as soon as our skin touched an image came into my mind. The nurse was in a hospital room just like mine. An old man was lying in the bed, hooked up to blinking machines. A huge family was around him, and many of their faces were streaked with tears. He was sleeping, and his breaths were labored as if every intake of air was a challenge. As his family watched, his breathing slowed, and eventually became even fainter. A woman with bright green eyes who looked to be about the same age as the old man fiercely grasped his hands. His breath became shallower and shallower, until it faded completely. I blinked, and just like that I was back in the present, the nurse's eyes, the same bright green as the old woman, looking right as me, asking if I was feeling alright.
I was freaked out, of course. But I wrote it off as the result of my morbid thoughts and the heavy drugs the hospital was pumping through me. And then it happened again when the doctor popped in to check on my progress, and lifted up my arm to check on my wound. And again, with the next nurse who changed my bandages. It wasn't the same image every time. The doctor's touch also sent me into a hospital room, but this time it wasn't an old man dying. A woman, who looked to be about sixty lay unconscious on a hospital bed. She is sleeping, but not at ease. Her body is taught, and her face is slightly scrunched up. It was clear she was in a lot of pain. My doctor, a man that couldn't be over thirty five, was next to the bed. A man who looked like his father was standing next to him, staring at the woman on the bed. My doctor asks, "Are you sure?" and after a while the father nods. Time passes, and a person comes in to turn the machines off. Slowly, the woman's body relaxes, until she is not in pain any longer. The third dream was brief. I saw too officers walking up to a front door. It was late, maybe two or three in the morning. My nurse gets up when they ring the doorbell, hair messy from sleep. Her husband answers the door, and when one of the officers speaks, his face crumples like a paper bag, while she remains composed, at least in appearance. I can feel the depth of her pain, though.
The dreams or visions or whatever seemed strange, but I didn't think too seriously about them. They sucked, yes, but I had been fading in and out of dreams for a while. I was able to rationalize it to myself until a few hours later, when my mom was finally able to visit me. She rushed into the room, relief clear on her face when she noticed I was awake. She rushed over to my bed, throwing her arms around me in a tight hug. She was wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt, and her arm touched mine. As soon as our skin made contact, the world went black for a second. Then I saw her on the phone. She looks just a bit older than she does now and her body is tense with anxiety. I don't recognize the kitchen she's in. It's my dad's voice on the other end, quiet and hoarse from tears. "It's...it's Bella. There was an accident, and um," his voice breaks at this point, and he's openly sobbing. "She died. She's gone."
My mother doesn't hang up the phone, but she slowly sinks to the floor, her breaths becoming shakier. As she sits on the cool linoleum tiles, tears begin to escape her eyes. She's never felt like this before. It's as if the world has sunken in on itself and began to collapse. Charlie is still on the phone. My mother is able to speak after a while, and that's when she asks, "What happened to her?". And then I was back in the present, looking my mother holding me. Over the next few days, the revolving hospital staff all gave me similar visions. I saw them in the worst pain imaginable, person after person. After I was discharged from the hospital, I vowed to make sure that no one would ever touch me again.
