As a child, I held a fear of going blind. Nothing colossal ever happened to lead to such an intense phobia, but I would sit in my room every night and pray. I would ask God to take away any of my other senses, but please, leave me my eyes. I never asked to hold onto all senses, for some reason. It felt like bartering.
It was sometime in 2016 that I realized that I have been floating through life, constantly on auto-pilot. But attempting to break through what felt like an endlessly stretchy coating was impossible and inevitably made me feel worse. So, I moved out. Left my roommates. Left work. Left town. I had 2 acquaintances I had conditioned myself to call friends but nothing else. Although easy, it was not the wisest decision for someone who struggled with seeing themselves as a real person. I lived my life seeing myself in third perspective, never minding anything beyond the task I was working on. Nothing new ever happened anyways; it felt like I was living a literal life cycle. I had gotten used to living like this, if you can even call it living.
Fast forward to 2018, I snapped back into my body. I was working the register and the second it clicked, everything else clicked and I suddenly felt sentient again. I say again as the last time I felt this way happened to be when I was a child. My shift went on but I still felt stuck at that moment with the register. I could not figure out what epiphany I had. Was it the sudden noise of the register? But I had incorporated it into my daily, commonplace routine. Maybe it was a different pitch this time? Did it get rusty? Can it get rusty? As much as I felt alive, I was also disoriented. I clock out, head home, and attempt to sleep it off. ‘I’ll get used to it as time goes on,’ I thought, ‘it should feel good to recognize my body and feel it.’ But this did not feel like my body. I slept and had the same dream I had as a child.
It went as follows. I am alone in a small room. There are porcelain toys with faces that almost mock you if you look at them for too long. The room felt like it was decorated by someone who had never been a child; it was a little funny. In my dream, I am blurry. Physically. I wave my arms before my face and they only vaguely resemble hands and fingers. I remember the recurring dream but I never remember how I get out. I do what I always used to do in my room. “God, please leave me my eyes.” I wait. Nothing. “God, take away any of my other senses. Please leave me my eyes.” I hear a heartbeat and I am immediately thrown out of the dream.
On my way to work, I pass my next door neighbor who usually goes out for a jog early morning. I walk for a bit. Then, I pass him again. Then, again. Then, again. Then. What? I look behind me and my neighbor is jogging, but there’s only one of him. Maybe revisiting old dreams had an effect on my psyche? I turn around and there he is again. I stop him and give him the first greeting I’ve ever given him in 2 years. He smiles and opens his mouth. The words that come out don’t match the movement of the mouth.
“The tape is stuck! You idiot! What did you do?!” a woman’s voice yells. “Nothing! It just started doing whatever this is. You know we couldn’t keep her like this for much longer anyways, right?” the man responds, “What the fuck am I supposed to do?” “Not use a fucking video tape maybe?” the woman retaliates. “Do you have any recent memories from your sister? Didn’t think so.” “We are running out of time. Be quiet.” “Just pick out any memory and put it in. Her heartbeats getting erratic.”
I hear a click and everything fades. When I am concious, I hear the familiar voices again. But I only hear them. Everything else is blank. I am scared. I try moving my eyes to where the voices would be coming from but I cannot see anything. There are loud foot stomps.
“What do we do? What do we do? What? What even? What CAN we do?” the woman iterates, frantically. “Look, we held onto her for as long as we can. But for fuck’s sake, they should be grateful we passed the 10 year mark with only 20 memories!” “Honestly,” the woman sighs, “I did not expect it to work on someone so young.” “Ehh. Was she, like what, eight when we picked her?” “She looks around-“
There is a moment of silence.
“Allen.” “What?” “She is looking at me.” “What?” “She is LOOKING at me.” “How is she looking at you?! She literally has no-“
There is screaming. I feel sharp pain where my head should be and I pass out again.
I wake up alone in a small room. I pray to God. Please, leave me my eyes.