Waking Up 26

She can't see them properly. Those lights reflecting in the mirror, are blinding. Makes steering difficult. The curves are hard to take at this crazy speed, especially with that fast car so close behind her. And it's all happening in this strange silence. As if she is driving on water, like a speedboat.

There is a recurrent fear to hit something. "Be more alert...," she tells herself. She's not clear headed. That is, not sufficiently. She's skidding across the pavement, like an airplane trying to land in a storm.

Again she watches her mirrors. They drive in a fog bank now. At least this way those lights are somewhat less blinding. But she notices that the mist seems to flickers bluish. Is that the police behind her? They want her to stop? She must escape! Trying to be faster she presses the accelerator all the way. But the car appears to slow down in stead, the wheels spinning as if in soft sand. Should she break instead? Invert her logic? But would not that police car crash into her? She's not thinking properly. Again those headlights become blinding. And now, apart from those blue flashings, there is noise too.

But it's not like a siren. More a violin or something. Or a lamenting trombone. She's puzzled, must clear her mind!

Maybe if she sits more straight in this low seated formula-1 car, the music will stop. That crazy music! It's like cotton in her head. She didn't drink, didn't she? So what do they want from her? She tries to sit more upright, but pain shoots through her back and neck.

It clears her mind a bit. That's a relief. But there is still that violin. She shakes her head, but the music doesn't stop, although it's more melodious this time. Her lips are dry. Too dry.

Once more she tries to straighten up and tells herself again that she must be more alert. It's difficult. Terrible headache. It seems to take infinite effort to open her eyes.

That's when she wakes up. In bed. Must pull some sheets up. It's chilly. But her hands feel dead. What a nightmare! But she knows she's surfacing into reality. She knows, because that music, or whatever it is, has become more sharply edged. It clears her mind further.

The trick is to beat that horrible headache. "Sit up!" she commands herself. But again pain hits her. It's not just that headache. It's also a stinging pain in her neck. She must have slept in a very bad posture. Her head weights tons.

Again she tries to open her eyes. Thin light enters her brain. It melts those cotton clouds. Surprise! She's not below sheets. Not even in bed. Must have fallen asleep in a chair. And quite uncomfortably so. Her head hangs, is bent low. That's why it's so heavy. She must really focus her attention better, listen to that stupid music with more concentration.

Suddenly her ears pop. There is more. It's not only music. A low soft murmuring. Voices? The music is kind of background. What's going on? TV still on? She doesn't remember falling asleep before the tube. With great effort she finally succeeds in lifting her head. What a strange posture she's in. Arms crooked somehow, and prickling as if they are asleep. And what about her legs? They are kind of numb as well, it seems. How does one fall asleep like that? You can't sit in a chair with your legs like that. With great effort she shakes her head, as if turning her brain around.

Thus, finally, she forces her eyes to open.

What she sees stuns her. What's this? There is a table before her, with plates, glasses and wine. A couple dining close before her. And her ears convey new sounds. The sound of cultured voices, soft clinking cutlery and quiet background music. In the half dark behind, she sees a garden. And more tables. More people. They are all in evening dress. A faint smell of high cuisine.

Looks like an expensive dinner party. Waiters in white shirts and black jackets move across the grass between the tables, changing plates and filling glasses. It's a crazy dream. She tries to shake herself free of the bizarre mirage. But her arms still refuse her. They feel tired beyond belief. She looks aside to find them. Where are they?! This can't be! A sharp pain shoots through her shoulders. Then she sees. They are high above her between the branches of a tree. There is rope! Her wrists! Fixed up high!

Confused she looks down. Her breasts! No! My God!

Full panic. What's going on? She looks down again. Her skin! Her nipples! Her hole body...! Oh my God! Terror strikes as it sinks in. She's stretched out naked in front of all these people!

Her brain begins to scream in horrid shock. It's a bad dream! No, it isn't! She tries to yank her hands free. Pain hits. No dream! Sickening fear envelops her.

The music stops. A sudden hush can be heard. Then silence. Just wind whispering the leaves. Until a voice rips through. She looks. It's a man, wearing a tuxedo.

What does he say? Something about her. That she's woken up. What does he mean..?

That's when she catches sight of what he holds in hand. It paralyzes her mind in ghastly terror...

It's a long fat whip.

She begins to frantically jerk at the rope above. But it holds her stretched.

In disbelieving panic she sees the man approach her, dragging his whip behind him across the grass. There's frenzied desperation in her eyes as she looks around for help. But no one stirs. They are all just watching her, glaring at her nude body, pointing at her..., laughing and smiling in eager expectation.

Black dread jams up from her stomach... She's wide awake! There's no escape!

"NOOOO...!!" she cries, as the man's swirls up his whip...

For a split second the world freezes before her eyes.

Then even before the whip bites, she hears a roaring scream escaping from her throat...

It fills the air...

And thrills the audience.