When You Think You Have Dengue

Something disturbed me in my sleep. I felt a sudden urge to scratch a piece of skin on the inside of my left forearm. My mom always advices that one’s should not scratch one’s skin when feeling itchy. But rather rub it gently to avoid a scab. I figure that scratching with short nails will probably have a similar effect. So I ignored my mom’s advice, immediately regretting doing so (Story of my life). I felt a sting in the same place where the itch had originated from. Should not have scratched it!

My eyes still closed, but I could feel the sunlight from the window hitting my eyelids. I wanted to examine the self-inflicted wound with my eyes remaining shut to make it easier for me to have one last snooze before giving into the realization that, sleep time was over. Just then, I felt itch on my right thigh. Subscribing to that quote from a famous statesman, I chose to learn from history rather than repeat it. I rubbed over where it was itching. Palm of hand separated from thigh by a layer of cotton my pajamas.

At ease, once more, I pulled my blanket all the way up my neck and turned to one side in an attempt to salvage another half hour of sleep. At that very moment, almost in an intentional attempt to rob me of those 30 minutes of slumber my brain connected the dots.

Itch. Mosquito Bite. No. DO NOT THINK OF THE “D” WORD!

A horrible feeling entered my gut. Clearly I could not sleep anymore. I reached for the side table, tried to feel for my phone and knocked down a bottle of Mospel instead. Finally my eyes were forced open. Still lying down, I scanned for my phone and found it next to my pillow. 12:29 pm it said. The alarm was about to go off. I got up and headed to the bathroom.

For a few moments I totally forgot about the bites. As I sat down on the toilet seat, I devised a strategy for getting ready in time for Jumma Prayers. I had forty or so minutes. More than enough. Then I realized that since it was Friday, the university was reopening in a couple of days as the dengue holidays were coming to an end. This train of thoughts led me back to the bites.

I turned towards my left forearm. No red there. I felt for a wound, a bite, a scab, any inconsistency on my skin. Nothing! I looked on my right thigh. Nothing there either. I distinctly remembered feeling that sting from my own scratching. How can this be? Was that a dream? Out of question. I never “Woke up” from it. I was conscious since I felt the first bite. I rechecked the two areas. Same result.

Was that a hallucination then? I do not know how those work, but it was definitely up that street. So then I sat there, on the toilet seat, telling myself that I am not crazy and paranoid for the entire next half a minute. Then my phone beeped and the alarm went off. A new train of thought then invaded my mind.