Good Lord, It’s Hot!!!


In my head, I hear Johnny Cash singing “Burning Ring of Fire.”  It’s so hot I want to take my skin off.  Maybe not all of it, just the first six or seven layers.  That should cool me off.  I’ve died in my sleep and this is Hell.  It has to be.  It’s so hot.  I’ve never felt heat like this.  My flesh feels like it is trying to spontaneously combust and just can’t find the spark to start the fire.  

It doesn’t look like hell.  It looks like my bedroom in the dark.  Maybe that’s part of Hell’s modus operandi.  Maybe it tricks you into thinking you are still where ever you were before you died.  Maybe it is meant to lull you into a false sense of comfort while the demons busily discuss which ring you belong in.  Maybe “Burning Ring of Fire” is Hell’s theme song.  

I’m not a Johnny Cash fan.  Eternity listening to “Burning Ring of Fire,” is torture all on it’s own.  However, Nirvana’s “Lake of Fire” would be appropriate in Hell too.  Eternity listening to Kurt Cobain nasally whine out the lyrics of “Lake of Fire” would be as bad as Johnny Cash.

I get out of bed.  My feet are hot.  How does one’s feet get hot?  The floor beneath my feet feels cool.  Perhaps I can throw myself on it for a last, brief encounter with the blissful cold before the torture begins and the heat really gets cranked up.  I wonder if I will know anyone in my ring.  Maybe I’ll find some long lost relatives.  Despite what I’ve been told, I don’t believe they all went to Heaven.  Some people are just downright evil and that term could have been used to describe some of my long dead family members.  

I begin taking off my pajamas.  It’s terrible to be stuck in Hell in these pajamas.  They’re flannel for starters and the top has long sleeves.  Can souls melt?  Why is my soul wearing pajamas?  Is this another part of Hell’s deception?  

I move to the bathroom.  Water from the tap feels cool.  There’s a rag next to the sink.  I don’t remember leaving a rag there.  Oh, they got something wrong.  They placed a rag there and I had put them all… oh, no, wait, I did leave one out.  I was going to use it to wash my face when I woke up.  So much for that.  I dip the rag in the running water.  It feels cool until it has run over my hands for a moment or two.  My hands are heating up the water soaking into the rag.  Quickly, I bathe my face, removing the sweat that has begun to bead up on my forehead and upper lip.  Since I have it, I wash behind my ears and the back of my neck.  The rag now feels hot.  I put it in the sink and turn off the tap.  I stare at it, waiting for it to catch fire.  It doesn’t.  

I open the dresser.  I fully expect to find nothing but flannel pajamas with long sleeves.  That would be a funny joke in Hell.  The heater turns off.  Hot air stops blasting from the air vents that seem to be all over the place.  It would appear that Hell is a giant blast furnace.

I lay back down on the bed.  It’s still hot.  I’m still hot.  The sheet beneath me is damp.  I get up again, this time, I exit the bedroom.  The rest of the Hell looks an awful lot like my house, but my house has never been this hot.  I don’t think gas fires get this hot.  The fridge opens, blasting me with cool air.  The sweat instantly gels on my chest.  I shiver.  

Hot flash over, I go back to bed and wait for the next one.  Menopause is obviously a test run for Hell.

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1 Comment

  1. Maria D.

     /  February 15, 2014

    Ugh….I suffer from this too…hopefully you will get through it fast!

    Like

    Reply

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