Sudden Darkness

A Metaphorical Fiction

When I wake up, I cannot see anything. OK, I keep my bedroom dark, but this is ridiculous. Only in the darkest part of the night can I see nothing in my bedroom, and this does not feel like then. My time sense tells me it’s morning, and I should at least be able to see the stripes of light at the edges of the window blinds. But no; I see nothing when I look in that direction. All right, I grab my Apple device and push the button to wake it up. I hear the click, but there is no light whatsoever.

I get out of bed and stand up with great care, mindful of the obstructions at the head of my bed and the electric cords that might be underfoot. I feel and avoid them, and grope my way to the light switch near the door. Activating it has no effect.

I’m starting to wonder if I am suddenly blind. Even on the darkest night, there is some light in my back hallway, because of the many windows. I step out of my bedroom into the hallway, and it’s still completely dark. Must be me, then.

I blink my eyes rapidly. I rub my eyelids gently to remove any sleep seed. I want to look at my eyes, to see if I can find anything wrong with them, but I can’t see anything, let alone my eyes.

I go to the bathroom as long as I’m up. Since I take this path when half asleep, I can manage it by touch.

Now what? Do I get dressed and try to get help? I can probably fumble with my telephone enough to speed dial someone.

What I’d really like is to get back in bed, fall asleep, and wake up from this bad dream. So I crawl back under the covers, but of course I’m way too agitated to even begin to relax. I grumble myself out of bed again, shuffle around the bed until I find my backrest, and heave it onto the bed. I wrestle the heavy pillow with arms into place and clamber up until I’m seated against it.

I cast my mind back to yesterday. Did I eat anything unusual? Did I stare at anything bright? Did I hit my head against anything? I can’t remember anything unusual about yesterday. Not much of anything, actually. But that’s nothing new.

OK; guess I’ll get up and dressed, and hope for inspiration. I get my underthings out of their drawer and make every possible mistake settling them into place. I grab a T-shirt from its drawer and yesterday’s pants and shirt from the chair on the far side of the bed. Hope I got the buttons aligned and the colors don’t clash too wildly. Oh well.

Should I try to call a neighbor for help, or just call 911? Lacking sight isn’t actually an emergency, I suppose. Hey, wait, now it occurs to me, I have neighbors closer than a phone call. I’ll just make my way upstairs and hope that one of my tenants can help me out.

This reminds me of how I met my next-door neighbor after locking myself out picking up my newspaper in my pajamas. Sometimes a beautiful friendship begins when one person asks another for help.  Fingers crossed.