A Rather Disturbing Dream

As I woke up one clear Friday morning, I somehow knew something was amiss amidst the seemingly clear blue skies, free from fluffy white clouds. It wasn't often, considering the tropical climate of an equatorial country, for the skies to paint itself a deep concentrated blue hue, like a 16th century painting hanging in a museum.

We were totally caught off guard, in such a trying time as the economy stretched our dollars apart. We got the house, then the newly acquired car, and a couple of life's simple luxuries which we can't live without. But the gift of life was always one we shouldn't push aside. If it is His wish to bless us with a shining light, perhaps he has his ways to shower us with whatever necessary to aid us through to the welcoming of our first born child.

Too many a times have I witnessed close relatives and friends receive similar news with tears welled up in their eyes. But how different it felt, when it happens to oneself. Consumed by happiness and overwhelmed with excitement, I for one was lost for words when the doctor confirmed the test results.

With added vigor and a new sense of motivation, I propelled myself harder at work, working extended laborious hours, just so I can provide more, for my family, and the anticipated welcoming of our first child. Though what I made seemed rather adequate, it pains me to see my wife propelling just as hard at her job.

Full of admiration for her tenacity and bullish drive, it came to a point her health suffered. It started off light at first, with sporadic headaches and back pains. But it became apparently worse as the months wore on. "It's OK dear", she lamented. "We can do with the extra cash", was what she always says as I brought up the topic of her quitting her job temporarily.

After much consistent persuasion, she finally gave in. It was a good 3 months before the due date, and boy was I glad to know that she finally has proper rest, limiting the possibilites of any complications.

As the days wore on and the welcoming seemed ever so near, I found it ever more so difficult to concentrate at work. My mind was always elsewhere, lingering into mindless day dreams, full of happiness and smiles. It was on one such day that I received a horrific call from my in-law.

"We're on the way to the hospital", she sobbed in between the lines. Her voice, heaved with sadness and fear. Never one to sit idly at home, my wife apparently slipped in the kitchen and passed out. There was just so much blood everywhere, as my in-law recollected her words when she entered the kitchen to find her daughter sprawled on the floor in a bloody mess.

I rushed to the hospital as swiftly as I could, driving like a raging bull, my pessimistic mind filled with negative publicity. I recognized the doctor from afar as he pulled up his hand to get my attention. With a comforting arm around my shoulder, he explained the situation as calmly as a doctor possibly could.

"I'll get straight to the point", his heavy voice spoke. "The good news is that though almost 2 months premature, the baby is safe. Now the bad news is that your wife was hemorrhaging blood when she got here. So much so that she's in a coma", the doctor's voice suddenly faded away as I felt a sense of heaviness within my head as I run my hands over my face.

"Now we have done all we can. The hemorrhaging has ceased but we cannot be sure when will she come out from her coma. It could be a few days. It could be a few years we do not know. Let's all pray shall we?", he comforted me as he opened the door to the ward where I saw my wife's angelic face asleep, like how she always looked so beautiful as she sleeps in my arms.

My in-law got up to leave, as I requested some alone time to recollect the events that happened within the past few hours. The atmosphere was silent like how all hospitals were. Reeking of death and misery. I touched her face, half hoping that the doctor was lying. She remained asleep.

I sat there, running my hands through her hair and talking to myself, hoping that she would come out of her sleep soon so that we can take a look at our child for the first time together.

The days wilted away and still, she laid frozen alive. I have yet to see my child. Relatives lamented on how he had my nose and her lips, but I still remained adamant to the fact that we just had to look at our child for the first time together, just like how the whole journey first began.

The doctors told me to rest as I looked pretty much lethargic, sitting there starring into her eyes. They said that if there was anything that could aid someone out from a coma, it is by hearing the voice of a loved one. Though she remained unconscious, she could still somehow hear. It was a long shot, but I remained positive.

I started to read aloud her favourite books. Mostly fairy tales and the sort. I read her some of the old books we had, which had been shoved away in the store cabinet. I even read her some of the letters and poems which we wrote each other during our courting days.

It was on one such day that I read her one of the first letters I wrote, that I fell asleep on her lap, clutching her palms in mine. I thought I must have been dreaming when I felt her fingers move! Slowly, I raised my head and looked upon her face. Her eyes fluttered open, as though she was opening it for the first time...like a beautiful butterfly that was becoming and taking its maiden flight.

She was back alright, and I could feel the life sucking into me once again as I kissed her on the palms like I always did. "Is the baby alright?", she asked with a glint of concern in her eyes. I comforted her that the baby is fine and healthy. It has been almost a month since she slipped into a coma, and though premature, the baby is doing better than normal, just as what the doctor said.

"Who does he look like?", was her next question. "I don't know for sure. I've yet to see it", I exclaimed. "You liar!", she managed to joke a little as she didn't believe a word I said. "Well it's true. The rest of them have seen him but me. I just thought it would be sweet for us to see our baby for the first time together", I continued.

I shall never forget the first time I saw my bundle of joy, as it laid comfortably nestled in his mother's arms, peering out of the cloth that was wrapping him, eager and curious just as his father is. They say the best moments of raising a child is when you watch him grow, for once he reaches a certain age, they'll just fly away, like how we all did when we left our parents homes.

Though this story was entirely based on a recent dream, I choose to believe that the actions of the characters somehow reflects upon my ideals in life. I'm positively sure I would have reacted just the same.