Remember My Dreams

6. Mom

When everyone had left the room, I finally felt a wave of calm wash over me. My breathing steadied, but my heart still beat irregularly. I tried to suppress the overwhelming panic that had settled in my chest. What on earth had happened? How did I end up in this situation? My thoughts spun like a whirlpool, constantly returning to the same bewildering question: why didn't I know those people.
I just wanted to go home, to my mother. The thought of her being alone at home, without my care, felt like a knife twisting in my heart. Dr. Sophie stood beside me, her presence reassuring amid my chaos. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine concern.
I nodded weakly, my lips barely moving. "I just don't understand what's going on," I muttered, my voice a shadow of its usual strength.
"I understand," Sophie replied, her eyes soft and understanding. She placed a hand on my shoulder, a gesture of comfort and support that cut through the icy walls of my confusion.
I let my gaze wander around the room, my eyes resting on the white walls that surrounded me like a protective shield. The bright light shining from the ceiling reflected softly on the shiny surfaces of the medical equipment around me, giving the room an almost otherworldly appearance. I felt like I was in a strange dream, a place between worlds where the boundaries of reality blurred.
"When can I go home?" I asked her, the desperation evident in my voice. The thought of my mother, vulnerable and dependent, made me restless. I needed to be with her. I felt tears burning behind my eyes but held them back. Not now, Elise, I told myself. First, find answers.
Sophie looked at me with concern. She had gentle eyes full of empathy. It felt like she could see and understand the pain and confusion within me, even without me having to explain everything.
"Why do you want to go home?" she asked cautiously.
My throat felt dry as I tried to find the words. "My mom is seriously ill," I began with difficulty. "I need to go home to take care of her."
Sophie nodded understandingly. "Tell me more about your mother."
The more I talked about my mother, the more pieces of my memory returned. "The last thing I remember is coming home from work and finding my mom on the floor," I said, my voice breaking.
Sophie placed a hand on my shoulder and gently squeezed it. "You have a memory coming back," she said reassuringly. "What is your mother's name? I'll do everything I can to contact her."
"Ariana Kluster," I whispered softly. I saw Sophie squint her eyes, as if the name seemed familiar to her.
"Okay," she said. "I'll keep you updated." She placed her hand on my arm and gave it a light squeeze. "Elise, everything will be alright," she said with a warm smile. "Soon, a nurse will come to take you for some tests."
I nodded again, this time more firmly. There was something about Sophie that inspired confidence. She had a calming presence, and I felt a bit more at ease because of her reassuring words.

As I waited for the nurse, I tried to organize my thoughts. It was all so confusing. How did I end up here? Why couldn't I remember more of what had happened? My head felt heavy from the effort of trying to piece everything together.
The door opened, and a nurse stepped in. She smiled kindly. "Hello Elise, are you ready for the tests?" she asked cheerfully.
The nurse who had just entered my room motioned for me to sit in the wheelchair she had brought. I smiled kindly at her and said, "There's nothing wrong with my legs; I can walk."
"I'm afraid I can't allow that," she said with a smile. "A little extra service from our hospital," she laughed.
I smiled weakly at the young girl and took a seat in the wheelchair. The nurse began to push, and we moved down the corridor. The wheels of the wheelchair rolled softly over the gleaming floor tiles, and the sound of our movement echoed in the quiet hallway. The walls were decorated with artworks meant to make the environment less clinical and more inviting, but my thoughts were elsewhere. I was focused on what was to come, the tests, and especially contacting my mother.
Suddenly, we were stopped by a man I immediately recognized as Bill Kaulitz. "Elise!" he shouted. "Elise!" His long, black dreadlocks fell wildly around his face, and his eyes were desperate. He looked exhausted. "Sorry, but I don't know you," I said, seeing the despair in his eyes.
"Elise, please, don't tell me you've lost us," he begged, and I saw how hope drained from his body. His shoulders sagged, and his eyes lost their sparkle.
Sophie stepped between us and signaled the nurse to turn and wheel me away. The nurse quickly turned my wheelchair around and continued to push me forward. I looked back and saw how Bill was being held back and dragged away by hospital security. His eyes sought mine, and a strange feeling of pity and confusion struck me. Why was he here? What had happened?
Looking back, I saw how the security guards firmly grabbed him and led him in the opposite direction. The last look I caught was one of pure despair in his eyes. I wondered what his story was.
The nurse continued to push me in silence, and I tried to organize my thoughts. We passed several rooms and nurse stations, and after a few minutes, we arrived at another wing of the hospital. It seemed quieter here, and the atmosphere felt less hectic.