Short Story: 5 am

5 AM

Have you ever experienced situations where reality felt a little bit altered? Like you're not present in a place physically as well as mentally? You're a visitor, a stranger in your own existence. Everything feels fluid, and you get the strange sensation that you're not real. Nothing's real. You're trapped. This was not supposed to happen. You are trying to understand it, but it does not want to be understood. The ambiguity of the situation leads you into a whirlwind of thoughtless emotions, and you're drifting, drifting away.

 5 am mornings have a subtle touch of reality shifting elements in them. The soft blue light delicately crossing the threshold between your room and the outside environment, the subdued callings of birds and your weary mind just taking in all of the details of your surroundings with a vivid curiosity- all of these create an atmosphere in your room that just does not feel like that it's of this world. It was the little things at first- a small flash of yellow light that seemed to appear and disappear from nowhere, a soft whimper from above my head, a faint rustling below my window. Although these could be easily ignored and dismissed as mere figments of the imagination or my fatigued mind playing tricks on me, I had always felt like that was not the case, and as it turned out, I was correct in this belief.

Exam season had messed up my sleeping schedule. On the nights before tests, I would stay awake till 4 or 5 am, trying to revise everything for the sixth or seventh time because I had a phobia that I would entirely forget what I had studied and would not be able to answer a single question. The fear of blanking out on an exam kept me up all those nights, even when I had closed my books and had gone to bed. This practice then became a habit, and now, it was impossible for me to sleep unless and until I see the approach of dawn and the subtle blue hue accompanying it enter through my windows. Is this unhealthy? Yes of course. What was I doing to change this habit? Nothing. But relax, I am not losing my mind, at least not yet.

Red light from my night-light flooded my room with a hazy blood-like hue. Dazed, with music from my headphones pouring into my ears, I stared at this one spot on the ceiling beside the fan, waiting for daylight when I would finally be able to sleep. After some time, the music seemed to slow down. The lyrics became slurred and heavy, the rhythm distorted. I checked my phone to see if I accidentally pressed something that caused the song to become slowed down, but the phone screen was blank. My confused reflection on the black mirror stared back at me, unable to process what was going on. I tried restarting the phone, clicking on as many buttons as I could, but it was of no use. That is when I realized that the music was still playing into my headphones although my phone was acting like a nonfunctional brick. Panic set in as my mind desperately tried to conjure a credible explanation for what was going on. All of a sudden, my phone screen lit up, and the song returned to its average speed. My heart was beating out of my chest at this point, and I quickly went through my phone to see what went wrong. There was a Snapchat notification from an unknown username. My curiosity got the better of me, and I opened it without giving it a second thought. The message read, ‘Morning has broken, go to sleep now.'

I forced my mother to sleep with me the next night. Needless to say, last night's incident had shaken me up pretty bad. After seeing the message, I had quickly switched off my phone, did the sign of the cross and had started praying profusely to Jesus to protect me from whatever was happening. I could barely sleep at all, and I spent the entire day reasoning with myself. There were no records of any messages in my inbox received around 5 am yesterday, and the most straightforward explanation seemed to be that I had imagined the entire thing and that the lack of sleep had finally caused me to descend into the depths of insanity and delusion. My mother wholeheartedly agreed with this line of argument, and I even got a lecture about how I was slowly killing myself with my unhealthy sleeping habits out of this situation. She still, however, agreed to sleep in my room that night, after a lot of persistent requesting from my part of course. Although more than half of my mind was confident that last night's events were insignificantly a part of my imagination, a small part of me was still afraid of facing the night alone.

My mother snores when she sleeps, and they are not cute, soft snores either. I was trying to sleep before dawn tonight, and my mother snoring as loud as a water buffalo beside me was not helping my case. It was almost 4 am now, and a cold dread of trepidation was setting into my bones. I tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable sleeping position, but all in vain. After some time, against all sensible commands of my brain to stay in the safe haven of my bed and mother, I got up to get a glass of water which I hoped would miraculously cure my insomnia. The darkness and the silence of the night cast a somber spell on the sleeping house. As I was drinking the water, I could not help but come to terms with the fact that all this time, I was hurting myself by glorifying my insomnia and making dumb excuses for not being able to sleep at night. I thought it made me unique- getting four hours of sleep every day and still being able to function perfectly well, but it turns out I was not alright after all. The sleepless nights had taken a toll on my body and my mind, and I became determined in getting myself out of this rut no matter what. That is when the dazzling yellow light flooded the room, blinding me temporarily and shocking my body into panic mode. It seemed to be coming from all around me, engulfing me, drowning me. The light was so intense that I could almost taste the color. The brightness dissipated just as suddenly it had appeared, and I was left gasping for breath, even though I had not moved a muscle during the entire bewildering experience. I did the only logical thing that anyone would have done in my situation- run as fast as my legs could carry me to my room, crying for my mommy.

It was my mother who insisted I should skip school the next day and catch up on some well-deserved sleep. After last night's fright, I was in no position to argue. My worst fears were confirmed- I was losing my mind, having realistic hallucinations and consecutively, spiraling down into the pit of madness. I woke up in cold sweat, the incident of the yellow light still lingering with vivid clarity in my mind. I spent the afternoon on the internet, searching for any information regarding my condition. I found out that sleep deprivation did indeed cause people to hallucinate, but it did not answer why I only had these visions at 5 am and not throughout the day. The websites also suggested that adequate rest would help disintegrate these effects of sleep deprivation and I gained some lost hope of getting better. That night, to make sure I would fall asleep before dawn, I took a sleeping pill at 10 pm, administered by my mother who assured me this was completely safe as long as I did not become dependent on them. The medicine worked quickly and effectively, and I sank into deep slumber.

I woke up with a jerk, covered with sweat but shaking from an unusual cold that had set in the room. Blue light was creeping through the window, referring to the dawn that I had once welcomed, but now feared. I sat up on my bed and looked through the window, mesmerized by the undisturbed mellowness of the early morning. The blue light slowly started becoming brighter and brighter until it became the yellow from last night. I could no longer see anything through my window, only dazzling light. This was not possible. Getting enough sleep was supposed to stop me from seeing these visions. I wondered whether I was in a lucid dream. I slapped and pinched myself, and shook my head, trying to wake myself up, but it was of no use. The light was still pouring in, and the room had become significantly colder. For some inexplicable reason, I was profoundly drawn towards the light which seemed warm and welcoming in contrast to the freezing room. I got up and walked towards my window, my mind detached from my body. I stopped at the ledge, in awe of the unusual beauty of the scene. I then stepped into the light, allowing the radiance to wash over me, swallowing me whole.

The brilliant light slowly subsided, and I was left standing in a large room. The ceilings, the walls, the floor- all of them were painted a ghostly white, giving the place an uncanny resemblance to the inside of a pristine blank mind. The walls were glowing softly and standing there, I was halfway convinced that I had died, and this was a middle ground between heaven and hell. A gentle voice from behind me startled me out of my trance-like state. I turned around and saw a tall, slender man with a kind face, smiling at me. There was something about him that instantly made me feel warm and comfortable and safe.

‘Hello,' he said. ‘You must be wondering where you are.'

I replied that I was, indeed, confused about my whereabouts and how I had managed to get myself here from my bedroom. I was more frightened than I appeared, but I managed to keep my composure while talking to the man. At this, he let out a small laugh and said that it did not matter how I had ended up here, the important part was that I was there and that I had found him. He invited me to sit on a couch which I had not seen when I was taking in my surroundings during my first few seconds in this room. Something was reassuring in his voice, something that made me feel that I was meant to be here, that it was not just by chance that I came upon this place.

‘I brought you here, Anna because we need to talk. We need to talk about your problems.'

My mind was going through a whirlwind of emotions, all of them begging the answers to what was going on, where I was and who was this man asking me about my problems. How did he even know my name when I clearly do not remember telling it to him? The simplest answer was that I was dreaming. Maybe the sleeping pill had worked too well, and now I was experiencing an incredibly vivid dream which was certainly making me question my sanity. That is when he quietly spoke up again, ‘You are not dreaming, Anna. This is real.'

I stared at him, my eyes wide and unblinking. My body was frozen in muddled fear, my vision blurry with disorientation. He then gently took my hands in his and said not to be afraid and that he was a friend. My body immediately relaxed. His words did not comfort me as much as his mere presence did. His face, radiating with unadulterated affection and kindness, reassured me that I was in no danger. Indeed, I was exactly where I needed to be.

The conversation flowed naturally. I told the man about my mother, who had been working three jobs to support the family. I told him about my contemptible father who had abandoned us when I was just three, my brother five, and how it gave rise to my commitment issues and paved the road to depression and anxiety. We talked for hours about how my relationships used to deteriorate, and although I did not want to admit it, my insecurities were the main reasons behind these failures. Pouring my heart out was proving to be too overwhelming, and I broke down in tears, unable to speak anymore. The man calmed me down, saying that he was there for me and I did not need to be afraid any longer. He then got up, beckoning to me to do the same. With a hint of mystery in his eyes, he said, ‘You cannot stay here for forever now, can you?'

My eyes opened to the glare of harsh afternoon sunlight. There was a moment of panic when I thought that I had missed school two days in a row, but relief washed over me when I realized that it was a Saturday. I smiled thinking about the trippy dream that was most probably induced by the cocktail of my antidepressants and the sleeping pill. It had felt so real, that for a second, I genuinely had a hard time figuring out whether I had actually managed to step away from reality and talk with an otherworldly entity. There was a certain lightness in my heart as if the conversation with the man in my dream had helped me shed light on the problems I was facing in real life. His gentle face, resonating with kindness, was still fresh on my mind, almost acting like a beacon of the hope that everything would be alright. 

I fell back to my regular pattern again. It was 4.29am, and I was nose deep into Pale Fire, reveling at the wondrous writing techniques of Nabokov. The room was becoming colder by the second, just like last night. A shiver ran down my spine. It cannot be real. I didn't even take any sleeping medication today, and I was confident that I was conscious. The blue light was again growing more intense by the minute until the familiar yellow light flooded the room. This time I did not hesitate. Although my mind was drenched with thoughts of confusion, I could also feel excitement rushing through my veins, compelling me to jump into the light once again.

My visits to the white room became a significant part of my routine. On one of these sessions, I had asked the man what his name was, and more importantly, what he was. His answer was simple enough- he was a friend, and I could call him anything I want. So, I resorted to calling him Joshua, a name that I believed suited him well. We did not just talk during these visits; we also played tennis (a court had magically appeared when I mentioned I liked the sport), he taught me how to play guitar, and we even spent an entire session playing with puppies. Honestly, at that point, I had stopped questioning the supernatural abilities of Joshua and began to embrace them instead.  We discussed various topics, ranging from politics and religion to the meaning of life and what was the reason for our existence. We argued about Descartes and Kant, and I was met with a humored chuckle from Joshua when I brought up Nietzsche in our discussion. When he spoke, his words dripped from enlightened knowledge and his opinions held a deep understanding of the universe. Joshua always ended the conversation by saying that I could not stay in that place forever and that I must return. However, I had become emotionally dependent on these visits, and I began to spend my days counting the hours, eagerly waiting for 5 am to come so that I can revisit the white room.

As I lay in bed, waiting for the yellow light to take me to my friend, I could not help but think about how my life has changed in the past few months since I had first visited the room. My outlook on life was slowly becoming more positive, and my therapist even praised me for finally allowing myself to become better. Joshua had filled a void in my heart that I had always felt, an emptiness that was now overflowing with hope and love. Blue light entered through the windows, indicating dawn. There was no coldness in the room yet, which was odd. I watched and waited as the blue slowly turned brighter as dawn became morning, but there were no signs of the scintillating yellow light. My heart felt heavy all of a sudden. This could not be happening, not now, not after I had become so attached to these sessions. I finally sank into my bed, with the leaden feeling of abandonment consuming me. 

I had hopes of the yellow light returning the next day or the day after that, but it did not. It was after an entire month of waiting that I finally gave up hope. Life became unbearable without my sessions with Joshua. I had no idea how I used to manage to go through the day before my visits to the white room. I knew I had to meet him just one more time. I craved for the feeling of lightness that used to accompany me during our conversations. Joshua needed to explain why he had left me when I needed him. He needed to make me understand why he had abandoned me, just like my father did all those years ago. This opened up a wound deep inside of me, releasing demons of despair which wreaked havoc in my mind. I even turned to prayer, asking for a sign that he was still there, but these were also left unanswered, just like the many prayers before.

The plan was brilliant in its simplicity. One of the main aspects of the idea revolved around the fact that I had nothing left to lose. That night, I hugged my mother and told her that I loved her and that she should never forget that. When I did the same to my brother, he was pleasantly surprised but embraced me tightly nonetheless. I did realize that what I would be doing was selfish; I was still young, with my whole life still ahead of me, but these were just what people saw on the outside. On the inside, there was silent chaos, everything happening at once and then nothing at all. It is not like I did not seek help as I had been going to a therapist for four years now, but it had not brought about any significant effects in my life. The only thing that used to make me feel good about my life was Joshua and our sessions. The white room brought about a feeling of peace in my mind that was indescribable, and when all of these were snatched from me without any explanation, I knew what I had to do. 

The sleeping pills were easy enough to obtain, as there was a pack of them already in the house. Ironically, the reason they were in the house in the first place was to stop me from having my nightly visions, which I had believed were caused by the lack of sleep. I swallowed two handfuls of the pills at 4.40am, forcing them down my throat with a glass of water. Then I waited for the icy grips of death to take hold of me. The room was becoming slowly darker, and my head felt heavy. I closed my eyes, wishing the heaviness would leave but it sustained. My breath was coming up at a rapid pace, and my chest was tightening. The darkness was now all around me, slowly but surely devouring my body and mind. And then, everything went blank.

I was in the white room again. However, this time it felt different somehow. Joshua appeared, his usually kind face washed with a strange look of sadness. I screamed at him, demanding answers for his disappearance. He replied calmly, ‘I never left; I was always with you, Anna.'

With a tinge of sorrow in his voice, he continued, ‘I am to blame for this as much as you are. It was my selfish deed that formulated this mess. I was only supposed to help you work out your problems, but the truth is, I had become attached to you as you had to me. I no longer wanted our time together to be temporary. I'm sorry for what I did. I hope you will be able to forgive me.'

Hearing these words put everything into perspective. Joshua knew that if he left me one day suddenly without any explanation, my abandonment issues would open up and damage me enough to take my own life and in doing so, I would never have to leave the white room or him ever again. The tears were flowing freely now, and a cold feeling of betrayal was creeping into my heart. However, it was my decision eventually, which led me to my demise at my own hands, and it was me, not him, who had swallowed the pills. Joshua's touch of comfort on my shoulder made all the difference in the world. The guilt and anger melted away, as I looked upon that familiar kindness which shone from his face. The realization that there was nothing left to be done about the situation but to embrace it made me unusually relieved and even sent a wave of exhilaration through my body. I asked Joshua one last question as he led me towards a door in the corner, which I had never seen in any of my visits here, ‘Joshua, are you God?'

An ethereal glow around him made him seem delicate, and his firm hand on my shoulders consolidated his strength. At this question, he smiled warmly and said, ‘If you want to believe that is so, my dear Anna. But first and foremost, I am a friend.'

The door opened to reveal a sea of light. It was not like the yellow light which had first introduced me to Joshua. This light had a more divine nature to it; it was of a purer kind. My mind was now cleansed of confusion and fear, and I could not help but smile at the prospect of the unknown. With Joshua by my side, I walked into the light for one last time.