Foreboding

It creeps upon me like a dull mid-winter fog. I awaken, the alarmclock a forgotten relic in my bottom drawer, to see its tentacles all around me wrapping me in their cold embrace. The miasma of impending doom, a feeling so pervasive it haunts me day and night, even in my dreams.

Mom says, what happened to my boy who would snore through an entire earthquake?

I disguise it as career angst; vent at work, feel a little better, but in the still of the night, forgotten dreams work their way into the murky consciousness of the early dawn. Ritual routine brings no reprieve: my teeth are brushed, my hair brushed, my shirt neatly tucked in, but I’m miserable. The tea is too hot, I glower at it as it burns my tongue and issue cold instructions that only half a cup be prepared from tomorrow. I should thank my stars I have someone willing to awake that early to make sure I don’t go off cold and hungry, but am not feeling so grateful right now.

What’s wrong? You seem preoccupied. Is everything ok at home? Families are tough to manage but you get used to it. You’re doing so well, man. At your age I was earning half of what you get. You should take a vacation. A second honeymoon. A pilgrimage. Cut down on coffee. Are you still smoking? There’s no such thing as an occasional smoker. Don’t feel bad but I notice you always drink a little too much. Have you had your cholestrol checked lately? People are having heart attacks at 30 these days. Why don’t you car-pool, less strain. You’re lucky you have time till you have schoolgoing kids with their hazaar demands. You’re lucky to have a liberal family that understand you. You’re lucky. Lucky.

I am. Really. And yet I feel this way.

Is something bad going to happen? Is it already happening? Has it happened and I am not aware of it?

Somebody tell me. It’s driving me mad.