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Mental Travels
In my hospital room I am staring at the ceiling at night.
Two weeks here is enough and I yearn for the outside world.
Lonely but surrounded by people,
Free of responsibility but imprisoned,
In my fear I seek refuge.
My mind is my solace and I travel far far away from this place.
In the dark I hear the loud bubbling of my oxygen humidifier
And I embark on a captivating deep sea journey
Where I am scuba diving, looking for mermaids and bottom dwelling creatures
Colorful fish tickle my feet as I glide past them going deeper and deeper
The pressure of the deep water squeezes my chest
So I breathe quickly and heavily while tethered to my gear
And I gasp for air as I swim to the surface.
I open my eyes and am surrounded by metal and hard, artificial surfaces
There are no organic smells nor any life around
I hear the buzzing of machines and pipes in the walls
And I realize I am in a space ship
Traveling the galaxy for thousand of miles from my homeland Earth
The black box above my head is blank
“Houston, can you read me?”
I mutter with no response.
I am floating, disconnected from everything.
My bed is my command station with lights that blink and buttons that change my position
Finally I push the red one and hear from the Mother Ship, “Can I help you?”
And through the closed blinds at the window I see a bright light
I think it’s a star I must be approaching
The stars are brilliant from this vantage point
Then I remember it’s just another passenger in her spaceship across the wing with her lights on.
I open my eyes to a bright light overhead, the kind I saw once when my body almost left this world.
Its brilliance invited me to a safe place of comfort and peace
And I follow it with wonder.
Soon I am surrounded by this light
And I see Jesus and he comforts me and we smile at each other.
He reaches for me and lays his gentle hands on my chest
I feel tremendous warmth and healing
He says it will be okay.
I blink and I see him and it’s Charles, my wonderful respiratory therapist
And he’s laughing and I’m laughing and he’s laying his hands on me
I feel his healing.
My reality and fantasy are blended.
In my fantasy there is fear and loneliness.
In my reality there is goodness and refuge.
1/18/04
By Isa Stenzel
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