me.
Since I woke up in the hospital a
little over a month ago, I’ve been going through the motions of putting my life
back together. It was a huge blow
to consider the past six years were nothing more than a dream. A wonderful dream. A dream, to this day, I wish I had
never awoken from.
As I reflect back over my six-year
hallucination, I now realize how much was dictated by my mother’s love and
attention. She never let a day go
by without reading to me, teaching me, talking to me, and loving me. She talked to me about art, literature,
the news… she even continued my schooling as if I were really there.
The rumors are true. A coma patient does in fact absorb the
words and information around them. If it weren’t for my mom, I would still have the mental capacity of a
fourteen-year-old. But because she
educated me throughout my incapacitated state, I not only still felt alive, but
felt the desire to continue on in life as if I were actually coherent over the
past six years.
My mom taught me not only how to
live, but also how to love. Well,
the emotional part of love that is. Even though, in my mind’s eye, I wasn’t a virgin
anymore—technically, my body had never experienced what my mind had
deemed to be so damn real. How
could someone dream of having sex… feeling, seeing, smelling… and it not be
real? Trying to wrap my
understanding around all of this, my mind was nothing but a wacked cluster of
confusion.
Other than my muscles being
horribly riddled with atrophy, the recovery wouldn’t be quite so bad. However, one thing was more painful
than my heart could bear. Jonah. Jonah wasn’t
real. I had to come to the
awareness that he was just a figment of my imagination.
It’s odd. Parts of my dream, or more like my
dream-like state, were factual. I
did break both of my legs in the accident.
The horses? They were real. My mom purchased them two years after
our accident and told me all about them, down to their spirits and
personalities.
The stars? They were real. Over the years, my mom began obsessing
over astronomy and stargazing. She
told me about all the different places she wanted us to visit once I woke.
My dad… my dad walking away was
also real.
“Ella! Your dad is on the phone!” my mom yelled from
downstairs. I didn’t want to talk
to him, and regardless of how much my mom pushed, I wouldn’t change my
mind. When my mom needed him the
most, he walked away. He could
keep on walking as far as I was concerned.
My Aunt Sybil came and went. That was usually her style anyway. But for my dad to walk away as soon as
things got tough… it would take a hell of a lot of ass kissing to earn my
forgiveness.
I decided to ignore her, figuring
she would read my thoughts or get the hint that I didn’t want to speak to the
man.
I could hear her inner turmoil as
she verbally gave him the runaround but mentally defended my feelings. Regardless of her desire to rekindle my
relationship with my dad, she didn’t blame me for my reaction.
I was very grateful for my
mother’s non-stop coddling. Regardless of how torn up I was over losing Jonah… well, let’s get real,
I never really had him in the first place. But, with the realization he didn’t exist, my emotional
state took a nosedive. Even though
my company has been less than desirable over the past month, my mom has never
given up on me. Still, the shock
of it all has me tearing at my insides in some sort of vicious attempt to
comprehend. When I thought my
mother was no longer alive, I was devastated. It turns out I was the one who was dead. Yet, she made sure to keep life coursing
through my mind. She made sure to
keep me alive… if that’s what you want to call it.
“Hey, Ella. Ready for a shower? I have a surprise for you later,” my
mom said as she poked her head around my bedroom door with a smile.
“I think I can handle
Since I woke up in the hospital a
little over a month ago, I’ve been going through the motions of putting my life
back together. It was a huge blow
to consider the past six years were nothing more than a dream. A wonderful dream. A dream, to this day, I wish I had
never awoken from.
As I reflect back over my six-year
hallucination, I now realize how much was dictated by my mother’s love and
attention. She never let a day go
by without reading to me, teaching me, talking to me, and loving me. She talked to me about art, literature,
the news… she even continued my schooling as if I were really there.
The rumors are true. A coma patient does in fact absorb the
words and information around them. If it weren’t for my mom, I would still have the mental capacity of a
fourteen-year-old. But because she
educated me throughout my incapacitated state, I not only still felt alive, but
felt the desire to continue on in life as if I were actually coherent over the
past six years.
My mom taught me not only how to
live, but also how to love. Well,
the emotional part of love that is. Even though, in my mind’s eye, I wasn’t a virgin
anymore—technically, my body had never experienced what my mind had
deemed to be so damn real. How
could someone dream of having sex… feeling, seeing, smelling… and it not be
real? Trying to wrap my
understanding around all of this, my mind was nothing but a wacked cluster of
confusion.
Other than my muscles being
horribly riddled with atrophy, the recovery wouldn’t be quite so bad. However, one thing was more painful
than my heart could bear. Jonah. Jonah wasn’t
real. I had to come to the
awareness that he was just a figment of my imagination.
It’s odd. Parts of my dream, or more like my
dream-like state, were factual. I
did break both of my legs in the accident.
The horses? They were real. My mom purchased them two years after
our accident and told me all about them, down to their spirits and
personalities.
The stars? They were real. Over the years, my mom began obsessing
over astronomy and stargazing. She
told me about all the different places she wanted us to visit once I woke.
My dad… my dad walking away was
also real.
“Ella! Your dad is on the phone!” my mom yelled from
downstairs. I didn’t want to talk
to him, and regardless of how much my mom pushed, I wouldn’t change my
mind. When my mom needed him the
most, he walked away. He could
keep on walking as far as I was concerned.
My Aunt Sybil came and went. That was usually her style anyway. But for my dad to walk away as soon as
things got tough… it would take a hell of a lot of ass kissing to earn my
forgiveness.
I decided to ignore her, figuring
she would read my thoughts or get the hint that I didn’t want to speak to the
man.
I could hear her inner turmoil as
she verbally gave him the runaround but mentally defended my feelings. Regardless of her desire to rekindle my
relationship with my dad, she didn’t blame me for my reaction.
I was very grateful for my
mother’s non-stop coddling. Regardless of how torn up I was over losing Jonah… well, let’s get real,
I never really had him in the first place. But, with the realization he didn’t exist, my emotional
state took a nosedive. Even though
my company has been less than desirable over the past month, my mom has never
given up on me. Still, the shock
of it all has me tearing at my insides in some sort of vicious attempt to
comprehend. When I thought my
mother was no longer alive, I was devastated. It turns out I was the one who was dead. Yet, she made sure to keep life coursing
through my mind. She made sure to
keep me alive… if that’s what you want to call it.
“Hey, Ella. Ready for a shower? I have a surprise for you later,” my
mom said as she poked her head around my bedroom door with a smile.
“I think I can handle
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