Diary – A.M., 15th Feb

by waxnwings

Diary Index

The time is a quarter past three and I have woken as if from a nightmare. I sit at my bedside with a chamber lamp whose flame betrays not the slightest flicker; the shadows of this unborn morning remain still. It feels eerie, this stillness. It feels as if I am the only living being in the world, for at this moment I am haunted by an illusion that the world is nothing more than what occupies the four corners of  this room.

My elevated heart-rate has all but subsided, however for near the past ten minutes it has been unfamiliarly erratic. For what reason I do not remember – I recollect nothing of my dreams. Only darkness accompanied by a curious mixture of anxiety and heightened awareness. I feel myself almost as the hunted animal knowing nothing of the circumstance or motive of their chase, only the instinctual recognition of a familiar visceral response to a life under threat.

Although I will attribute tonight’s experience to the circumstances of my new surroundings (it is not even a week since I left the ward), the fact that both these past two nights have been plagued by ill sleep is cause for careful motoring; I intend to report closely my sleeping patterns moving toward the end of my first week’s discharge from Leavesden. Perhaps, should such an unpleasant experience recur, I will remember some of my sleeping fragments which are nothing more to me now than meaningless shadows.

I do not think I will be able to sleep much further tonight so I am going to occupy myself with letters to old friends (by which account I refer to those few I should hope are still happy to share my acquaintance). I may even visit doctor Harsham tomorrow to inform him of the outstanding progress of my recovery.

~ A.M., 15th Feb, 184-

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