I am here. Listen. I am keeping you alive

Reflections on my beating heart

I woke up this morning to the sound of my beating heart.

Photo by Guillaume LORAIN on Unsplash

It was playing a dull thudding beat close to my right ear. Nestled in the crook of my palm and a pillow, my beating heart had transmuted the sounds of its constant toil through my finger tips for my listening pleasure, as though to say. I am here. Listen. I am keeping you alive.

I could not only feel the pulse, I followed its spasmic rhythms and accompanied it on its journey as it rode in place, moving back and forth in its mystical rocking chair. I could imagine it as it squeezed and relaxed. I could feel life with each little squeeze, and for minutes before my eyes opened to embrace another day, I marveled at this little miracle.

The Dream

Then I remembered a dream that had followed me from the void space in-between life and death into my waking memory.

I was in a room in what looked like a sprawling resort of bungalows. I was holding a baby and reading a book. Two men had walked in, gone straight to the window, shuttered the blinds and walked out. Shortly after, I tried opening the door only to realize that it was locked from outside. I was locked in. I didn’t panic. I just sat there trying to figure out why anyone would want to…