Please, Someone, Answer My Question

As I start to arouse from a deep, deep sleep, I am unaware of where I might be. Slowly my eyes blink awake, but my mind hasn’t yet taken control of me. My senses are slow to start functioning; I am aware of darkness, yet, flashes of light. My brain tries to put together the pieces of where and when I went to bed last night. I am not even sure if, in reality, I can’t move, or if I just haven’t willed myself to do so yet. I realize the noise I hear in my head is the sound of pouring rain, and suddenly, it dawns on me, that I am soaking wet. Remember. Remember. What was I doing yesterday? Sleep embraces me again. When next I awake, I am not sure how much time has passed; It could have been hours; or days; or, perhaps, just a second or two. I am on my back this time. The rain is pounding on my face, preventing me from opening my eyes. Then I remember; I was having dinner with you. Flashing red lights greet my eyes when I force them open through the rain. “I feel nothing”, I only think to myself as an answer to someone asking, “Do you feel any pain?” I was having dinner with you. The small flashlight being shined into my open eyes by someone kneeling down beside me recalls the memory of headlights coming at us from a truck going the wrong way in our lane on the highway. Now I remember – I turned and looked at you right before going to sleep. “Where is my wife?” I am not sure if I said that out loud or just thought it inside my head. I try to sit up to see if I can find you. There is that pain he was asking me about. The lights are turned off again. I am warm and dry when I awake again. The sounds of sirens in the rain are replaced by the beep, beep, beep Of the medical equipment measuring my vital signs. “Where is my wife?” I need someone to answer that question before I can decide whether or not to keep the beeping going so I can see you here again or to drift off to sleep and join you on a different journey. “Where is my wife?”