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Another Day


I awoke slowly.

But, I did wake...

Some of us do not.

I had no memory of my name, yet.

But, that is not surprising for those who become aware.

'And I am aware...' I muse, raising my hands, palms uppermost.

I push open the plasteen canopy, which eases away to the left.

Then I step out of the cabinet, conscious of my nakedness all-of-a-sudden.

It hadn't mattered to me, not until I looked around the room of cabinets like mine, with occupants like me inside and the woman in the white coat sat before a computer on a desk, in the centre of it all.

She had looked from the screen to me as the I approach, my feet thankful that there is carpeting.

I appreciate the comfort.

“They put nails in my hands,” I say to the pretty lady with the ponytail, who has ceased typing.

“Why did they do that?” I ask her, pleading for an answer to the question that vexed me, for several long minutes, as I had recalled the pain, prior to opening my cabinet.

She opens her mouth, then closes it without speaking.

Finally she says to me, “No-one has made mention of having knowledge of their previous life and death, thus far...”

Yet, I am... aware...