Disoriented

The lights behind her eyelids blurred and swayed.

Was she falling? No. Each pad of her finger tips had a solid base. Cool and smooth, but not fully. A crack of light become brighter and the skin of her hands shown through.

When did she close her eyes? Why are they opening now? She leaned back, enjoying the cushion provided. Was it a chair? Not a couch, too firm to be a couch. Where was she?

Opening her eyes more caused the blurred lights to gain colors. Dull browns and tans made up walls and desks. A classroom, it would seem. And empty one. Objects were scattered about in front of her. There was as a desk, that’s what she felt. Had class ended? When did class start? She lifted her bag and filled it with all her stuff. The world shifted again as she looked towards the door.

Voices filtered in, quietly murmuring among others, some cutting through the haze with excited tones. She walked out the door, still swaying, at least it seemed like that. There was a pressure on her neck as it moved, but nothing was there. She couldn’t find jewelry that would restrict here, nothing.

Her heart pounded a steady beat, she could feel it. Feel the pulse in her fingertips and the energy it sapped from her body with each thump. There was a face she recognized, and she smiled.

It was a reflex. Who was that again? A classmate? A friend? Who knows, she just had to smile.

What was next? A class? Studying? Was she free for the day, free to go back to the dorms and rest among her friends and the voices she knew, the presence she was warmed by? Could she bask in the heat of people and fall back to a dream? Was she already in a dream, and that was why the world moved as it did, has she ever woken up?

Who knows.

She watched time pass by, more blurs of motion as she woke with a bang. Someone was shouting, and she knew the voice but couldn’t place it, not now, not anymore. It was too much, too loud, and her heart raced but she couldn’t move. Despite the scare, no energy was left. Instead she watched with wide, blurred eyes as a man -- a friend? A classmate? Who knows -- gestures wildly with a smile on his face and too many grins around the room.

Some turn towards her, they soften and hands reach and she can’t move, not an inch. But she smiles, it’s a reflex. She should know these people, should have seen them before. But her eyes can’t distinguish, their faces are a mess of color and sound that attack her so she smiles and hope they calm.

The beating of her chest steadies but she isn’t able to relax, not again. The murmurs are too loud, too close. There’s not danger, there’s never danger, not here in this place.

Where was this place again?

She doesn't know. But it’s safe. What is a safe space?

Safety is a concept she knows and hasn’t felt, but allows to replicate. This space is meant to be safe, therefore she must feel safe. She must smile, she must relax, even as the world blurs together and she has lost track of herself. Here is safe, with the lines running along her cushions, her couch, and the color of voices streaming through her ears, a hand on her back, moving in circles of comfort.

This is meant to be safe, it must be safe.

Even as her heart continues to pound off beat. It can't think, it can't know.

She knows better, she's been told what Safe is. She'll listen, she'll smile. The blurred faces and their grins look down apon her and her eyes slip shut, she slips into darkess.