You Won't Understand: Calvin's Story

I woke up to World War III. If I counted it would probably be World War 100. It seemed that every morning my sister and Mom would argue about something stupid. I don’t understand women. Immediately, I got a headache. Why couldn’t they just shut up? I just came home from the hospital. They should be more considerate, but that would be asking too much wouldn’t it? Sometimes they are so annoying and I hate it. Maybe if I went down there, they would stop being loud, and so I did. I passed by a mirror and saw the bandage around my head. I look totally badass.

And I was right. As soon as I got down there they quieted down. I thought that maybe it will be peaceful, but then it got awkward. They were all staring at me. And by awkward, I mean really awkward. So then I awkwardly sat down in my chair. “Umm…” I didn’t know what to say. “Mom, can I have some breakfast?” For some reason, I was all polite. Mom probably thought I was being abnormal too.

“Oh Calvin, sure. I made eggs. I’ll go get them.” I wish someone would do something to this awkwardness. I can’t handle it anymore. I’ll probably have a mental breakdown or something and then have to go back to the hospital.

My sister probably felt the same way. “So…does your head hurt?” I wanted to tell her how stupid that question was. Obviously it hurt. I mean, I was in a car accident right?

“Yeah it hurts a lot, obviously.” I wondered if she would feel stupid now.

This seriously wasn’t helping with the awkwardness and my head started to seriously hurt again. I wanted to go back to sleep. I had an excuse, but then Mom showed up with my food. Finally.

Then there was another problem. I had lost my right arm and I’m a righty. I stared at my food, and then I stared at Mom. Mom and my sister stared back at me. “Aren’t you going to eat?” Why was my sister asking so many stupid questions today? Maybe I’ve just forgotten because I’ve been at the hospital for so long. Whatever.

I remember that before I tried practicing to become ambidextrous. I wish I tried harder. It would be useful now. I stared back down to my food. I hope my left arm would cooperate.

My mom likes to overreact and be overprotective. Sometimes it gets really annoying, but today I like it. Instead having to have totally awkward conversations, I was literally pushed into my bed. It’s good though. I get to sleep. It’s weird missing an arm. I thought that my sister might comment on it. She probably thought it would make me feel sad. Girls always think too much.

I had a weird dream. It was one of those fever ones that never end. In it, I kept on having the car accident over and over again and I couldn’t stop it. I kept getting hit by shards of the windshield and realizing that my arm was messed up. And then I died. Every time I would die, come back to life, and then go through it again. After what seemed like the hundredth time, I stayed dead. There was no revival, and no repeating of the crash. I was just dead and everything was misty and dark. I don’t know how long I slept or if I woke up, but was still dead.

At some point, I must have woken up because I’m pretty sure no one can sleep that long and I heard my sister arguing with Mom again, but I don’t think I was alive. Then after more time, I actually woke up and I felt alive. It’s so weird and I’m pretty sure my head is messed up. I should probably go back to the hospital.

My dream totally freaked me out, but I probably shouldn’t worry too much. I have weird ones a lot. There was this one dream where I was at a church and I had on a wedding dress. Then, the Pope showed up and tried to kill me because I was a guy that was wearing a dress and it was against the Bible. So it’s kind of normal for me to dream about dying, I guess.

Still, even though it sounds like a gay thing to do, I got up and wrote down what happened in my dream. Who knows? Maybe it’ll come handy someday. Like if I get arrested. Then I can say that I have mental problems and show them my dreams as proof.

On a side note, I wish I can have better dreams. My friends always have ones with girls. Instead, I have dreams where I am the girl. Either that, or I keep dying over and over again.

I felt like I should tell my mom about these awesome dreams I’ve been having, but I was she will think I seriously have mental issues, Moms overreact a lot, especially mine. Then all of a sudden, I felt really sad. I know people who are bipolar but I think I was beyond bipolar. One second I was complaining to myself about Mom, the next I wanted to jump off a cliff. I really hope it’s because of my head. And then, to add to my confusion and mental craziness, I felt my right arm. This girl came to give a presentation at my school once. She lost an arm and talked about how sometimes she felt like it was still there. That’s probably what I was feeling.

God I need some help.

The only good thing that has come out of this whole thing was not having to go to school and being lazy the whole day. There was no one home with me except Mom, which was convenient because I got hungry. I know. Sexist. Whatever. Who cares. I was in a car crash and lost my arm. I think I can get away with not being the nicest person for a while.

The sun was out when I became alive so basically I’ve been dead for about twenty four hours. One whole day. I needed to do something to distract myself, so I went downstairs to eat. It seemed like the only things I can do these days are sleeping and eating. My mom wasn’t very surprised that I’ve been sleeping for one day and just gave me some food when she saw me. Today it was soup, which I can eat with just one arm. Still, all I did was stare at it. My mind was still obsessing over my dream. I know that it’s impossible to die in a dream, yet I died more than once.

“Calvin. Calvin Au!” I snapped out of it. Mom was staring at me. “You are being abnormally quiet. Are you ok?”

Should I tell her about my dreams? I decided against it. “Yeah umm, I’m just umm, tired. Yeah.” Damn. I can’t even speak properly anymore. But I was seriously tired, so I went back to sleep, again.

I didn’t end up sleeping though. I was actually scared of dreaming. The more I thought of it, the creepier they became. I didn’t care how gay it sounds. I think I’m turning into a girl. I keep thinking too much and overreacting. A dream seriously isn’t that important right? But I had nothing to do other than obsess over it. To heal, my mom wasn’t letting me talk to my friends, go on the Internet, or watch T.V. So I decided to just stay in my room all day like someone who needed to ponder over the mysteries of life.

I began to dream about being dead more and more and I didn’t even know when I was awake and alive. Sometimes I would be in hell. Other times I would be in this empty cavern with weird fog all over. These places were straight out of clichéd horror movies. In the beginning I would hear people coming to the door of my room to make sure that I was alive. I wasn’t, but they didn’t need to know that. Gradually, they stopped and I was left alone in my walking dream. It was ok. I didn’t need people. I didn’t even need to eat. Starving wouldn’t do anything to a dead person.

With no one to bother me, I started to make sense of everything, but I was still confused. Sometimes I would be awake, sometimes I would be dead, and sometimes I wouldn’t even exist. Sometimes I would feel like a zombie. A living dead. Maybe this is how the world will end. A zombie apocalypse started by me. I’ve always known that I will be important someday. Oh my god I am seriously going crazy. What am I even talking about?

In the rare moments where I am awake I try to remember and analyze what happened to me when I was dead. Usually I can’t remember much. Maybe it’s because nothing really happens. All I know is that I go to another world. It reminds me of the demon world in a Chinese drama I’ve seen before. Even there, I don’t seem to exist. All the other dead souls walk right past me. Right through me. The guards don’t go after me and the demon king doesn’t care about me. Also when I’m alive, I realize that I’m hungry, but I don’t do anything about it. I don’t want to leave the comfort of my room and feeling hunger is the only way for me to know when I’m awake. Don’t get me wrong though. Being dead wasn’t exactly bad. There was a sense of peace. I didn’t have to care about my head, my arm and what people thought.

Then, something happened. I have no clue how many days have passed since I started to stay in my room, but one day, I saw that my skin was starting to rot, as if I’ve been dead for a long time. Needless to say, I freaked out. After a while of freaking out, I calmed down. I must have become calmer and more logical in these past days. I thought through everything. I probably caught some disease in the demon world. Things like that happen. Still, it was a sign that I was no longer just dreaming. Something from my dream carried on to my conscious life.

I’ve become a legit zombie.

Before, I never believed or cared about zombies. Even when I did, it was about killing them. I have no clue what I’m supposed to do. Do I go and infect people? Do I wait for guys with chainsaws to come and cut me down? I’m pretty sure this isn’t how it should be. I felt like there should be some manual for the new zombies. Now I’m just a zombie with no direction in life. Or afterlife. Or whatever you want to call it.

But I do know that I shouldn’t just stay in my room like a loner. I was surprised that I can walk so gracefully. I thought that I would be like the zombies in movies, but no. Normal person walking is the new thing, I guess. I was dead and zombies aren’t supposed to have emotions, but there was some nervousness. Am I seriously going to infect my mom and sister? And my dad? It doesn’t matter. We can all be a loving zombie family.

Then I got downstairs and prepared to make a grand entrance before biting them all. But there was a problem. They were all eating at the table and ignoring me. It was like I was invisible. Like I didn’t exist. My panic level skyrocketed. All the calm I’ve gotten from being dead was gone.

My skin was peeling off. There was blood and weird sticky liquid dripping onto the floor. I was sure I needed to infect someone or else this infection will end me. But to them I didn’t exist. How can they be affected by something that doesn’t exist? And I couldn’t move either. I was rooted to the ground.

And then out of nowhere, other people came. At first I was happy. More people for me to infect. More chances for me to stay in existence. But that didn’t happen. I realized that quickly. One guy forced me into a position and another guy slipped some metal onto my hands. Probably handcuffs. I was desperate. I decided to bite the hand holding me. It worked and he dropped me. His skin started to turn gray almost immediately.

There was no time for me to celebrate though. Someone quickly took his spot and I was immobilized again. I realized that my family was staring at me. They can finally see me, but they were doing nothing. Just standing around, gawking. My sister seemed horrified. She must be surprised that her brother has turned into a zombie. I wanted to keep fighting. The zombie race depended on me, but there were too many people. I gave up. I gave in to them and stopped struggling. This must be how the living defeat the zombies.

VALLEY HOSPITAL

RESIDENT

Name: Calvin Au

Date of Birth: May 26, 1995

Gender: Male

Disorder: Cotard’s Delusion (Walking Corpse Syndrome)

More info: Patient believes that he is dead, doesn’t exist, decomposing, or that a part of his body is also missing. Early symptoms include depression.