will kill me

This morning, I thought I had already woken up. I see the room around me, my blue blanket, the bed underneath me, the railing at the side, and someone else is pulling my blanket, preventing me from getting up. I felt his hands behind me and wrestled with them, with the little movement that my own hands can do. I couldn't turn my head to look at him. My eyes tried to look towards the railing to get a blurred view of one of his hand. Eventually, I felt blood rush from my spine. Cold blood, somehow. I tried to turn my body so that I would fall down to the floor. But he was holding me down with the blanket, as if it were a net. So what was left to do is to shout, call for attention. I already knew it was not real by that time. I just hope that if I'm shouting in a dream, is that I'm also shouting in the real world. I kept shouting, hardly forming any words, hoping that someone would hear. The door knob of my room started moving. I wonder if they have the keys. It is not very likely. Still shouting... and just snapped out of it.

No one seems to be at the door. With the voice of my shout still fresh in my mind, I tried to recreate it with a real world shout. For comparison. The voice is different. It might had just been all in my mind. No one may actually know that I'm having trouble breathing. That those struggles may be my last.

Someday, if I get old, I may not be strong enough to snap out of it. To escape from the terrors created by my mind.

"Your greatest enemy is yourself."
--Great quoter