I dream strange dreams.
The first dream is of a car, in which I am seated,  flying off a very high bridge. The car is black.  Everything around me is drowning in darkness. There is no sound, not  a whisper, not even the sound of the car which is now spinning towards the earth carrying me to inescapable death. Even I am silent, waiting for the embrace of eternal rest. I see vague forms materialize beneath the car in the never ending free fall, monstrous entities beckoning me into their jaws. All the fearsome creatures I had ever imagined and some that even my imagination has never conjured up, slithered up and danced around the car, silently laughing their mocking laughter. The fall never ends. The fierce maws and fetid smells drown me, draw me into a horrible world of everlasting pain. I try to scream, but thick silence is all that escapes my parched throat.At this point I wake up, sweating and almost shivering.

The second dream is of a knee into which my body seems to have shrunk. I am sure the rest of my body exists, but the left knee dwarfs me into a silent dark un-form.I suspect I am tied down. I am immobile. I am trying very hard to move, but not even the knee stirs. A dark, silent, transparent form is breaking my knee with a mallet, a gigantic mallet that descends on my left knee, relentlessly and in utter silence. The pain is beyond belief, beyond comprehension. The rhythm of the mallet is violent, vicious and silent. I am silent too, although I am screaming with pain. The dark form wielding the mallet, which seems to be made of some kind of wood, is utterly silent. The touch of the mallet is like an unbearable kiss of  utter pain. I wake up at this point and I see that I am sitting up in bed, pushing my knee into the bed. And of course sweat pours like rain.

One of my visitors was a psychiatrist. He said this is called post traumatic stress disorder and that this can become quite debilitating. He said he will help me get through the stress, if it becomes unbearably difficult. I told him I will get in touch. I haven’t done that though.

I feel I should fight my fears myself. But what am I scared of. Death? No, not death itself, but the dazzling uncertainty of what lies after death does disturb me sometimes. Pain? Sure. Pain is bad. I don’t like pain in the body. I hate even injections. And here is my knee being smithereened ( I know there is no such word,).

I fear that I might need to visit the shrink, because the dreams refuse to go away and I cannot sleep.

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