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Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Experience · #1914260
Waking up on the operating table.
I could hear the surgeon talking. I tried to scream, wiggle my toes but I couldn’t move.

I was on the operating table, staring at the ceiling, surgical lights shining on my face, when I realised I was paralysed; I couldn’t even blink. Was I dreaming?

It had to be a dream. I mean I had the anaesthetic before the operation, I remember the anaesthetist administrating it through a canula in the back of my hand. So why does this dream seem to be so real, so vivid?

The surgeon’s scalpel glinted in the artificial light and I felt a rush of intense fear as the blade descended towards my stomach.

“I’m awake, please hear me” I screamed silently, desperately trying to get their attention.

In a blind panic I tried to raise my heartbeat; maybe they would notice and realise the error and stop. My efforts were all in vain, I had no choice but to lie there.

I could still hear the surgeon talking as he started to cut into me.
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