Don't Panic

Thoughts

Imagine this;

You walk into a room with tall, overpowering walls and a ceiling so high that you couldn't touch it, even if you stacked three ladders together. It's just a single room, 5 feet by 5 feet at the most. There are no windows, no vents, no ugly paintings hanging on the walls. The walls are bare and green. The kind of green grass wishes it could be but not like the tree leaves. There's not even one hole from a thumbtack. A perfectly, untouched, tall, earthy green wall that has a hazel rug to compliment it. The flooring is more of a rug really, it can lift up as easily as it can be put back down. This rug fits the room perfectly like someone was trying to hide the ugly stained wood underneath but didn't know how to mount the rug to make it a carpet. This person wanted the room to be perfect, but even the most perfect things have their imperfections.

You see this small, yet large room with a kind of beauty. At first, you thought it was bland, new, maybe, but then you learned that even the simplest things have history. After standing around for a few minutes, you decide to sit in the corner of the room so you can lift the rug up and take a closer look at the imperfect wood. Suddenly, the door slams and all the light into the room is gone. You jump at the noise, but don't seem to be frightened by it. You get up and go to try to feel your way to the door. As your walking, you stretch your arms out. It seems like you have been walking in the dark for quite some time, and yet you haven't hit a wall yet. This can't be, right? The room is so small. It feels like you've been walking for miles now and still nothing. You start to panic in the darkness. You left your phone in the car for some reason. Why would you do that? You never do that. You let out a scream, and start to cry, just falling to the floor with defeat.

Suddenly you can't move your arms. They're wrapped around yourself. This makes you cry more and you can't even scream at this point so you whimper "help" in-between sobs. You manage to calm yourself down just a bit, to the point where you can think rationally again, and you notice the ground is soft and almost squishy now. Still, in the pitch black, you think to yourself, "Where am I now? How did I get here?" You pull yourself out of that helpless fetal position, wondering how your arms got stuck. You finally see light, it appears to be coming from a tiny window. Next, to it you see a door, it appears to be heavy, metal maybe? Who knows, you don't know what doors are made of. You move towards the door, it has a sort of spongy material on it. That's so weird? Why would you need a comfortable door? Now you're in more lighting and you look to see why your arms are bound. You have a strange, egg white jacket on, making them hug to you. How did this get here? You let out a cry for help once again, as you notice with what little light you have, that the whole room is covered in the same material. "HELP ME!" Who is gonna hear you, though? Not in this small but large room.

The same shape and size as the room you were in moments ago but how can this be? You start tugging at the strange jacket as you cry even harder. The door suddenly creaks open. "Please, please, you have to help me," you whimper. "How about a nice nap," the nice, middle-aged woman says. She smells just like your grandmother's. You miss her. You just want to go home. She comes closer to you. She's holding a syringe. It has pink liquid in it. "No! NO! Please don't!" She has you cornered. She cups your cheek softly. You stare into her eyes. They're hazel, just like the rug. "The rug," you whisper. All of a sudden, she leaves. Why do you feel so sleepy? What did she do to you? Your vision is tinted with earthy greens and everything goes black, again.