I wake up to find that I'm surrounded by blackness. The body that usually presses against me at night is absent and their space is cold. I cannot see, I cannot hear and I cannot speak. It feels like something is pressing on my chest and I am paralyzed with fear and lack of oxygen. The blackness is so heavy that it suffocates me - I can scarcely gasp for help. My fingers won't wriggle, my toes won't wiggle and my eyes will not break open no matter how hard I try. The suffocation shifts then. It still presses on my chest in inconceivable pain but now it's within me as well, tugging on my heart and lungs until they are pulled taut and stretched to their capacity. It's like I'm drowning in dense, black liquid. It seeps its way into my airway and blocks it, forcing itself further and further down until I'm full of it. The pain is ricocheting and my heart is slowing.
This is it, I think. But the pressure changes again. This time it's thick and in my throat and it stings my nose and eyes, though they are still clamped shut. The pain is so intense that it's white-hot and despite my desperate efforts, I cannot scream. This is fire, licking at my nerves and clogging my lungs with thick tar and ashen smoke. If I could choke, I would, if I could gag, I would, if I could
breathe, I would. There is nothing but suffocation.
And then I wake up again. The light is on. The body is sleeping beside me. I can slump and sigh with relief.
And then the light turns off and I am plunged into darkness again.