It was true! I did not lie. I really was afraid of heights. Why didn't my dad believe me? The stewardess gave me some medicated oil, which I dabbed around my nostrils. What a relief! I felt I could breathe again after the torturous bout of breathlessness earlier on.
The personal screen in front of me was no longer active. I did not know the altitude, travel speed and other information, and I could not care less. I had to forget all that so I would not throw up again. I repeatedly told myself that I was on a bus, not a plane. There was no reason for me to feel anxious and nauseous.
Although hungry, the food served in front of me was left untouched. Nasi lemak was a favourite of mine, but I could not bring myself to eat it. Just a whiff of it made me want to throw up again. The nauseous feeling down in my throat was a real appetite spoiler. I reached for the bottle of mineral water and gulped it down, took a deep breath and closed my eyes. As I massaged my forehead, my thoughts flew back to my dad.
YOU ARE READING
Tangled Dreams
General Fiction8 people. 2 countries. 1 life. Just how tangled up can one be in pursuit of dreams? Experience the journey of different walk of lives as each of them pursue a dream that might or might not be theirs. And in that pursuit, do they know for sure what i...
