I jerk awake, sweaty and hot. My heart is beating 100 km per hour, and the disorienting panic begins to set in.
What the hell?!
What idiot got into a car accident yet again?
I live on a county road with a dangerous blind spot–a curve on a hill–and accidents happen all the time because people drive too fast and don’t pay attention.
I stumble to my feet and even though I see the curve from my bedroom window, I pad my way to the bathroom window to see what was going on. I simply do not want to open up my curtains for no reason and let the light in.
There are no cars backed up on the road, actually, there is not one single car on the road.
What is going on?
I groan. Somewhere in my sleepy-to-panic mode, I’d failed to notice that it was pouring outside. I can barely make out my neighbor’s house, much less the white Toyota heading down the street towards us. I calm down; finally, the sound and the empty roads make sense.
The thunder shakes the house, its vibrations registering in my brain through my feet touching the bare ceramic floor, and lightening flashes the already bright sky.
What time is it? I wonder. I want to go back to sleep but not to work so soon.
On my way to my room, I peek through the door to my parent’s bedroom. Dad, as usual, is sleeping on the floor, but I wonder why he is still home when it’s so bright out. He usually leaves for work at 5 am.
This time, as I walk to the door way of my room, I hear the rain splashing against the roof, the sweet lullaby that I hardly can hear anymore. I wish in that moment that I could hear it better, so that its calming sound would put me back to sleep. Alas, that is not meant to be.
I check the time on my phone. 3:48 am. That’s not possible–it’s too early for it to be this bright–so I rub my eyes, and check again. 3:49 am.
Aw shucks. I just went to bed at 1 am, and I need my sleep or else I am going to be exhausted at work. Stupid thunderstorm and stupid hearing. A thunderstorm wakes me up, but I sleep through fire bells, alarm clocks, pots and pans clanging, and roosters. My hearing baffles me–I’m almost deaf, but yet I hear better than I should. How the hell does this work?
3:50 am. Well, if this is the hour…it means that dad and mom will soon be waking up to get dad off to work. It would be for the best if I wasn’t awake or around, lest I got dragged into yet another one of my parent’s numerous arguments.
The thunderstorm is quieter and further away. I lay my head down on the pillow–right ear to the pillow–and for a moment I hear the rain.
Then, I’m asleep.