The Tramatized

We had a small contained fire last night, right in the middle of our kitchen table. The lovely centerpiece of autumnal flowers, pinecones, pipe cleaner spiders and candles went up in a flash of glory, much to my dismay. Staring at the T.V., I was queuing up a video for my class, which was to begin momentarily. Without warning all of our smoke alarms went off. I spun around to see the center of my kitchen table ablaze. Flames licked at the Halloween paper lanterns I had hung from the light. I had to act fast. Believe I leapt from the family room to the kitchen, because I don’t remember my feet touching the floor. I grabbed a pitcher, filled it with water and doused the fire. Our house was filled with smoke and I’m sure I came off as a complete freak to my students who were presently arriving, but all’s well that ends well, right? Not necessarily so.

Every time something shiny catches my eye I have a tiny panic attack. Twice today I have heard noises off in the house that sounded like a crackling fire. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to actually lose your house to a fire. I only lost three candles, three pipe cleaner flowers, some flowers and two pinecones and my mind is running over the situation again and again. What if I’d gone upstairs? What if the lanterns had caught on fire? What if it had started my pre-disastered table on fire? What if? What if?

Even the smallest unexpected situation can send you for a loop. But none of this explains the Mick Jagger dream I had last night.