THE ELECTION NIGHTMARE

Wednesday, November 4, 2020 kept me alternating between my cell phone and TV—to follow the election results. I stayed up till midnight watching the votes tallied to Biden and Trump, and the states change their colors on the US map. When assured by all sources that the tally and predictions were over for the day, I turned the TV off, placed my cell phone on top of the bed backboard panel,  pulled the flat bed sheet and bedspread to cover my aching body, and pushed the button on the board--turning off the lights extending above the backboard.

At dawn, I lay in bed frozen to near death!

It is daytime, cloudy skies, and gloomy atmosphere. People are going back and forth around me.  Gigantic grey stone buildings with chipped facades stand on both sides of a wide street. The street is unpaved, dusty, inclined upward as if built on a hill. I had to climb several high steps to remain on it.

I am dressed in a beige pantsuit, wearing brown high-heeled shoes, a large COACH handbag hanging on my right shoulder. My driver’s license and credit card are in a wallet inside the handbag. Worried of losing the handbag, I keep pulling its straps with my left hand closer to my neck. Each time my left hand journeys to secure the handbag, the glare of a big gold ring with a ruby stone on my left ring finger catch my eyes.

Two levels up and out of breath, I walk to the ticket booth of a theatre. I buy a ticket, paying with my credit card, and go sit in a full-house, grand  theatre.

The show ends. I look around me for my handbag and ring. They vanished! Heart pounding, I struggle to stay in and continue my search, but the audience are leaving the theatre and keep shoving me out.

Outside the theatre, I see the woman who was sitting in the theatre next to me. We wait together until everyone is out and we both go in and look around. Nothing!

Exhausted and stressed out, I push my way through the pedestrians, heading back to my car. But I’m lost. Asking for directions I get blank stares instead. So I go back--past the theatre, down some stairs. I find the paved street. The street has no sidewalk and I’m almost run over by a car. I stretch my right arm and touch my left shoulder, then left arm—it is stiff and numb! I keep rubbing it. Why am I so cold? I reach back searching for the backboard light button, and press it.

I remain in my bed until my eyes adapt to the light. I become aware that I am surrounded by four walls. I hurriedly raise my head off my pillow and look left, searching for my handbag. It is there, on the top right end of my dresser. I pull the bedspread from under my feet up to my shoulders, and breathe deeply. Then I pick-up the cell phone and anxiously search for the 2020 elections--hoping that the blue line had reached 270 electoral votes. I can’t go through a more harrowing election nightmare.