awake-asleep

It has been the same thing pretty much every night for about a month now. I feel like sleep and get into bed, reading until my eyes start feeling dry and tired. I turn out the light and cuddle up to my boyfriend, snuggling into his body. The scene is set for a good night’s rest.

With my eyes closed and my body slowly heating up behind his back, my heart beat becomes faster. The beat becomes juxtaposed against the even breathing of the sleeping body beside me. It becomes frantic and irregular. A knot begins to tie in the centre of my body. I am, again, wide awake.

I feel worn-out and try to lull myself to sleep. I repeat pleasing thoughts. I think about him beside me. I picture an exciting future. I conjure up pleasantries from the past week. I design a new tattoo and think about the pain I will experience when the ink needle pierces my skin.

But nothing works anymore. So my head gets filled with murky thoughts. Lying on my stomach, clutching at the knot, I picture myself sitting on the windowsill with my feet dangling out the window. I look out at the sea beyond the low-rise apartment building. Sometimes I can see the lights of ships. Sometimes I can see the moon’s silver reflection. When the moon is bright enough I see a white ridge of foam where the waves are breaking on the shore.

My breathing becomes regular and slower and deeper until I feel completely calm. I don’t turn around to look at him, peacefully asleep on the bed, a pillow in his arms. I look out at the sea so I don’t have to deal with the feeling of vertigo and I jump.

The fall is quick. Five stories and its over.

Those still awake will be startled by an unpleasant noise. Some will take a look out the windows and see my body spiked through on the security fence. A gruesome sight.

*

I’m on time for the train. The doors close with a pressure releasing squeeze of air. It moves at a slow pace out of the main station area. It only really picks up speed after the second stop. My mind drifts from the short story I’m reading. The noise the train is making is disconcerting.

At times I hear low groans, and then it cracks like the knuckles of my toes. There are deep squeaks and sometimes a cry. The noises sound tortuous. Years of hurtling forwards and backwards on the same route, being subjected to the abuse of aggressive passengers, tired workers and spraying cans of graffiti artists are taking there toll.

I look out the window at the other tracks and I am shocked to notice that they are moving very slowly like branches of a wispy tree, closer and further away from my train. I put my hand slightly out the window, but pull it back swiftly as a passing train scrapes against ours. I realize that our tracks must also be moving. If I close my eyes I imagine our train as something animated. Like the frantic cat-bus in Totoro.

I push up the window.

Underneath the bridges I notice small tribes making fires to celebrate the early morning sun. All the while the train is swerving closer and further from oncoming trains.

As I return my eyes to the pages of my book I notice the two demons spray painted onto the seats facing me. They stare intently at me with little frowns on their foreheads. I force a smile. Both give me a wink and then face each other. One gives a slight shrug and they start kissing passionately. I look until I begin to feel uncomfortable for staring.

At the next stop some passengers get up to leave the train. Only now do I realize that everybody except me has turned into stick figures with long thin bodies. Sexless people carrying briefcases, backpacks and purses. As they leave the train they turn to look at me. Their round expressionless faces move from side to side on elongated necks in a disapproving manner.

I only notice three stops too late that I had missed my stop. I shove my book into my back and rush to the doors. The demons briefly stop their kissing to wink goodbyes at me. The stick people are slowly shaking their heads. It seems like they are saying “no.”

I step onto the platform and as the doors shut behind me and the train begins to drag itself forward I give a couple of steps away, until I am standing outside the yellow “DANGER” line.

Instead of running through the underpass to catch the train pulling into the station that will take me back to my stop I stay fixed in my spot. I look around me and take in the scenery.

If I twist my head just so I can see the train tracks, perfectly normal. Large pieces of motionless metal with chunks of granite around and between it. Two security guards in yellow and black are continuing there conversation with the guards on the opposite platform. A father comes into the station with two children holding onto his hands. There is a group of school girls in maroon uniforms pouring over a tabloid newspaper. A young man is standing to one side, the hood form his jacket covers his head and his feet are slowly tapping to the rhythm of music only he is listening to.

Over the loudspeakers someone announces that the next train won’t be stopping and passengers should wait for the 7:19 train.

The trees, the sun, the sky, the fence, the concrete platform. Everything is as it should be at seven in the morning when I hear the electric current running up ahead of a train. I close my eyes and wish I could be back in bed, actually sleeping this time.
I am still standing with my back to the tracks. I finally feel awake. The first energy boost of the morning begins to surge through my body.

I catch sight of the speeding train out of the corner of my left eye as it comes closer.

With my newfound energy I give one-two-three-four steps backward and fall, a split second before the train crushes over the spot where I fell onto the tracks.