Okay, so the cat was being a pain in the ass on Saturday, so she ended up staying outside of her own free will for a day or two. Fine. I think she has her own personal harem anyway. Sunday morning, drag self out of bed. Make coffee, skip breakfast, ain't enough time. Put on clean clothes, stretch and guzzle coffee. Head to church.
In church:
The preacher is yammering away when the room suddenly tilts and shifts then seems to twist out of focus. I grab the back of the pew in front of me. If I go down all hell will break loose. I can't have a seizure, not here, not in front of about fifty people. I'd die of shame!
No, it's not a seizure. It's not even a panic attack, but where the hell am I? I'm in an oddly sterile room, strapped down to some odd contraption that's vaguely reminiscent of medieval torture, and I look and realize my arms are stretched out, kind of like almost crucifixion pose, if I were standing. but I'm flat on my back.
Down at my feet there's someone standing, dressed in a dark coat. My vision isn't perfectly clear, it's almost like everything's slightly hazy. A nasty adrenaline rush? Not sure, let's see what... Ouch! needle, oh dear, needle in the arm, wait, this can't be me, they can never find a vein on me to put a cannula in, and both my eyes work just fine.
Voice: (from behind my left ear, sort of out of sight unless I really strain to look back)
"Do you have any final statements?"
I shake my head. A squeeze of my leg. The man in I now realize must be a gray suit is squeezing my leg to say "I'm here."
Sudden cold, a metallic taste and I start to reel and try not to scream physically, because I'm still aware of my body, knowing that physically I'm sitting up comfortably straight in a baptist church even though I'm not baptist and there's an elbow in my ribs and there are tears pouring down my face.
The woman beside me asks if I'm okay, asks why I look terrified like I'd seen the devil himself. She has no idea, and I'm not about to tell her.
Ladies and gents, call me insane. Call me gone off the deep end. Call me what you will. I have no idea what happened in that church. All I know is the fear, that same degree of terror hit me twice more. Once about six hours after the initial experience and again about an hour after that. The third time I was nearly laid out.
I did not know the intimate details of what occurs during a lethal injection execution until I looked it up mere seconds after my ass landed in my chair when I got home. I wanted to match the details of what I witnessed or experienced, or whatever the living hell it was with what I could find. My significant other said I fainted when I confirmed what I'd experienced.
I think I knew but my physical self didn't. Whomever that person was that was imagining it, they may have been in that church with me and may have simply been witness to it. But why would they have seen it from the point of view of the condemned? Could it have been they were on the jury that sentenced this person? I'll never know because I can't ask too many questions without incurring curiosity I can't satisfy.