A Bubble of Time

Chapter 7: Dissociative Disorder

I finished the pot of coffee and was no closer to understanding what had happened although I had to come to terms with some facts.

1. This wasn't an accident because a note on my desk told me the exact date that I would be transported back in time.

2. I wasn't dead because I never tried to go through with those idiotic thoughts of suicide.

3. Maybe God was punishing me (but begging forgiveness for a full hour did nothing to counteract my situation).

4. Maybe I was insane.

I could very well be crazy. Crazy people didn't know they were crazy. I could be in an insane asylum right now. What did they call it when you didn't know up from down…a fugue state. If I was in a fugue state, then how would I get out of it?

I ran my hands through my hair with its terrible split ends, cursing because personal home computers were probably not even invented yet—and even if they were, my mama certainly didn't have one.

Wait, we did have the Encyclopedia Britannica! I hurried to the bookshelf in the living room and found the neat row of books that certainly had never been opened by anyone in my family since my mama had gotten them with the last of her Green Stamps.

I laughed insanely. S & H Green stamps! I remembered those and how my brother and sister and I would lick the sickly sweet backs of sheet after sheet of stamps so that we could redeem them for merchandise.

I dropped down to my knees, not worried about how I would get back up, and I plucked up the volume containing topics beginning with the letter F.

I located it listed under Fugue state (psychology). I quickly scanned the information.

Dissociative disorder, any of several mental disturbances in humans in which normally integrated mental functions, such as identity, memory, consciousness, or perception, are interrupted. Dissociative disorders can occur suddenly or gradually and may last for a short time or become chronic. There are different forms of dissociative disorders; they include dissociative identity disorder, dissociative amnesia, dissociative fugue, depersonalization disorder, and dissociative disorder not otherwise specified.

If I am now dissociated from reality, it could be short-term. Any minute now I could return to my true self. I replaced the book and began pacing. But the letter doesn't make sense. Why 1982? Why not September 11 or the day I discovered that my kid's father was cheating on me and I forgave him…Why am I being sent back to this time when I have to be a teenager?

Tears welled in my eyes. This wasn't a fugue state. Everything was too crystal clear. My memory would not have been this good. This information about dissociative disorders had never been buried somewhere in my head waiting to manifest itself while I suffered some type of nervous breakdown! This isn't insanity.

I was in the past!

I blew my nose on some pink toilet tissue that smelled like imitation flowers and sat on the edge of the tub. I looked up at the ceiling as if I could make contact with the powers that be.

"Okay, look. I don't know what you want me to do, but I don't want this task. Please give it to someone else, okay? Please? I just want to go back home." I wiped my face with trembling hands that were too moist. I blamed it on the caffeine overload and not on the fact that I was probably cracking up.

"I'm going to go back to sleep now. When I wake up, can I be back home? I swear that I will never take my life for granted again. I swear it! I'll even join a gym and lose fifty pounds. I'll gladly take care of my mom, and I'll help my kids more. Please just send me back!"

I waited for something to happen, maybe an envelope to appear with a date on it. I went back to my bedroom and looked down at the unmade bed. There was no envelope. I went back to the kitchen searching for an envelope. I tore through the house searching for an envelope. I even opened the door and checked the mailbox. But there was no strange, shimmering envelope anywhere.

Slowly I did the dishes—more because I didn't want my mother to know that I had drunk her coffee. Then I lay down in my narrow bed. It was comfortable, though. I pulled the covers over my head thinking that I would never fall asleep. But I was mentally and emotionally drained. Someone once said that you might not be able to fall asleep easily in a strange environment, but you can always sleep the best at your mom's house. Emotional exhaustion or not, I was safe in my mom's house, and that thought helped me to slip back into a deep sleep.

"You're still faking?"

My eyes popped open. I cringed in denial. It was Nubia's voice and not her adult voice. I pulled the covers down and peered at the little girl changing out of her "school" clothes and into shorts and a tank top.

"Hey," I said slowly while peeking at her through the covers.

She rolled her eyes at me. "I know you're just trying to get out of going to school. You can't skip school forever, Kenya. I'm going to Judy's house."

Silently I watched her leave the room. Okay, I have to face this s**t head on. No more sleeping and burying my head in the sand. That's probably how I got here in the first place.

I got up and quickly made up both beds. Maybe I'm here to be a better sister and a better daughter. Maybe if I can make a change in my relationships, then I would be rewarded and returned home.

I went into the kitchen and checked the refrigerator for something to cook for dinner. My mom worked hard everyday. Did I ever stop to think about that and maybe make her dinner instead of waiting for her to make it for us? Nope because like most adolescents, I was probably selfish. It took being a parent to know how much hard work went into raising kids, and now that I was a parent, I wouldn't wait until I was older to show mama my appreciation.

My eyes lit up when I saw the hot dogs in the fridge, and with excitement I located a big can of pork and beans. I swiveled around praying for the final ingredient and there it was: Wonder Bread! Light, fluffy Wonder Bread. It wasn't like regular bread. You couldn't spread peanut butter or jelly on it without shredding it, but it was perfect with pork and beans and wieners, folded and dunked into the bean juice.