“They’re almost awake, ” the doctor said. 

My eyes opened to pinpricks of light poking at my vision. 

“Where am I?” I wondered. I was sitting in a hospital bed. I suddenly felt the cold seeping into my bones as the only covering me was a thin blanket. On the table next to me was a vase of flowers. They were sunflowers. 

 I grasped for something in my brain, some sort of memory I could hold onto. I could only get long term memories. My name, schooling, siblings, and parents… and my occupation, I was in the army. 

“Where had I just come from?” I racked my brain trying to find an answer to my question. The doctor jolted me out of my thoughts.

“Hello!” he said unexpectedly cheerful. “ I am Dr. Smith, you may not remember what happened to you but that is totally normal for someone who just underwent trauma like you.”

“What happened to me?” I asked.

“Well you were in an accident in Afghanistan” Dr. Smith replied. “You hurt your head pretty badly, but you should be better in a few days”. 

On the first night of my hospital stay I dreamed that I was in a barren desert with many people. There were guns, bombs, and all kinds of automatic weaponry. The combined noise of it all would have been ear splitting if I hadn’t been wearing ear plugs. I would have been worried about where I was and what to do, except my head was in terrible pain. My body lay writhing on the ground. My head felt like it was splitting in half.

I woke up breathing heavily and the heart rate monitor was beeping off the hook. 

The rest of the time I spent in the hospital was a blur. I was either very hyper or sleepy due to the medication. I was depressed and I still couldn’t remember what happened in the “accident” that Dr. Smith had briefly touched on. 

They let me out of the hospital three days later. I took a taxi back to my house. While I was observing the urban landscape of the busy city, it hit me that now I would have to spend my days sitting in an office instead of out on the battlefield. I had gotten an honorable discharge from the army, so now with my college degree in finance I was to go out in the world and live like a civilian. 

I spent the next few days looking for jobs that I could take or interview for. Finally, I found one. 

The office was a towering skyscraper that looked quite menacing. I stepped into the building, ready for my first job after my injury.
I sat down in the interviewing chair and was greeted by a man sitting behind a desk. He had a particular air about him, like he thought he was better than everyone else. 

“Why do you think you should get this job?” the man droned on. 

I wasn’t paying attention anymore because on the desk right next to the man was an old compass. It was quite small and looked rusty, like it had been used a lot over the years. My leg madly started tapping against the tile floors. I couldn’t focus anymore and flashes of memory came bursting across my vision. I was lost somewhere, but it was dark and I could barely make out anything except for a shadowy outline of someone standing next to me. 

“Who was it?” 

“Excuse me… are you alright?” asked the man. He seemed impatient, like he had better things to do. 

“ I have to go, thank you for your time,” I said as I frantically walked across the room. 

I was in such a hurry that I almost knocked a coat hanger down that was next to the door.  

Instead of going home I went to an art store. I grabbed some supplies that I needed and I went back to my house. I drew and painted late into the night. When I was finished I felt much calmer than I was at the interview. 

“ What a disaster,” I declared, referring to the day that was, thankfully, almost done. 

The next day I traveled again into the city for another interview. It was supposed to be my backup if the other hadn’t gone well. My planning ahead had become useful. 

I stepped into sleek black building as a blast of cold air rushed toward me. I stepped into the elevator. I could sense that this interview would be better than the last. 

“Hello,” said a woman in a crisp blazer welcomed me into the interviewing room. I went into the room and she strode confidently to her desk and sat down. 

The questions  went smoothly and there were no distractions. 

A few days later I received a call that I got the job. I was so excited, I almost knocked over my easel in the process of celebrating. 

As I settled into my cubicle, I realized that I was in for a long day. There were only three sounds to be heard throughout the entire floor. They were the sound of typing, the phone ringing, or that occasional whisper to someone in another cubicle.  I was exhausted by lunch break. My fingers were sore from typing away madly for the last few hours. 

I sat down at an empty table with my brown bag that contained my lunch. Suddenly  someone landed next to me with a thud. 

“ Hey, how’s it going,” he said. 

“Good… who are you?” I asked.

“ My name’s Sam I saw you were sitting alone and I thought I would say hi,” he said.

“Well it’s nice to meet you,”

Everyday after that Sam sat with me at lunch, although I never saw him outside of the cafeteria. One day I was talking about how I was in the army, but after my accident I couldn’t remember anything and  

“Maybe you should see a therapist. Do you have anyone to talk to at home or something?” said Sam.

“Well I talk to you,” I replied,” But you do have a good point,” 

So that weekend I went to see someone I could talk to and I had to admit that I was getting my hopes up. Maybe they would be able to help me find out about my accident or how to deal with my stress and horrible visions. 

The room was very modern but it looked comfortable as well. The seats were cushy and there were many small gadgets that were piled on small tables or bookshelves. 

“ Have a seat,” said the therapist as she opened up afresh new composition notebook.

“ So I heard you were in Afghanistan recently before returning to the United States,” she said.

“ Yes,”.

“How has your experience been so far?”

“Good… except for one minor incident,” I replied.

“ Tell me about it,”

“Well there was this compass…” I faltered not wanting being able to describe what I was feeling at that moment. 

“ Take your time,” she said. 

“After I saw it there was this terrible vision but I don’t know where it came from, but that’s pretty much it,” I replied. 

“Ok we don’t have to talk about it then,” she jotted something down in her notebook, then she continued,”Have you made any friends while you started your new job or have you joined any kind of their support group for veterans?” she asked. 

I already knew the answer “ Yeah, I made one friend, his name is Sam,”.

“Tell me about him, what do you know about him or his background?” she inquired.

“ Well… I don’t know very much,” I paused : wait, his favorite color is red, he likes donuts, and he has a dog named Buster,” 

“Wow, when did he tell you all of this?” 

The it all flooded to me. The visions in the desert, the mysterious person standing next to me, it wasn’t a vision at all. It was a reality. The person standing next to me was Sam, but how could he be here? He wasn’t. I remembered everything. I left him behind, he was severely injured and if I took him with me, we would both be dead. Uncontrollable tears were streaming down my face, I couldn’t hold back all the emotion anymore. What would I do now? Sam was my only friend, the only one who ever talked to me, who was actually nice in the army. The therapist just stared at me and when she finally spoke she took the words right out of my mouth. 

“So where do we go from here?”

The day after the first meeting with my therapist, I went back to work. Come lunchtime I couldn’t find Sam.

“Where is he?” I thought. I turned in a circle trying to spot Sam, but I couldn’t make out much because of the lunchtime rush. Once everything settled down, I got back up from my regular table and looked around again trying to find Sam. 

At the end of the day I went to the receptionist, who was sitting at a large desk, looking rather bored.

“Hey,” I said,”Do you know anyone who works here named Sam?” I already knew the answer, but I just wanted to make sure. 

“Umm, no I don’t think there is anyone who works here with that.” she looked at me with a puzzled look on her face. I still was a little disappointed that Sam wasn’t here, although going to the therapist was really helping me to cope, I always felt a tinge of sadness whenever he was brought up. Something on her desk caught my eye. It was an uneaten lunch.

“Were you going to eat your lunch?”I asked. 

“Oh yeah, I usually eat it after lunch hour because it gives me something to do…” she hesitated and looked at me sheepishly “Also I don’t have many friends around here,”

I jumped at the opportunity to make friends

“Well I’m new here so you could say that I don’t have many friends either… yet,” I continued.”You should come sit with me at lunch tomorrow!”

“Really? That would be great!’ she exclaimed. Just for a moment I saw a glimmer in her eyes that reminded me of Sam.

Dealing with my trauma was always going to be a challenge, but it turns out making new friends wasn’t so bad after all.