Hmmm, suppose you wrenched from a sound sleep at 2:00 in the morning by someone pounding on your door like the fires of hell were raging inside them. How would you react: irritated, worried, afraid, panic stricken?
Try all of the above. I ran the gambit of these reactions when I found myself in that very situation a few nights ago. I suddenly wished I had a large dog with a blood curdling bark to discourage the apparent madman at my apartment doorstep.
The pounding that first disrupted my sleep was a floor away. Probably some feuding couple going postal on each other, I irritably concluded. Hubbie comes home late without calling and forgets his key. Royally pissed off wife lets him cools his heels in the hall awhile to teach him a lesson. I’d seen it happen before. Apartment buildings are a microcosm of life.
Ten minutes later the pounding become discernibly louder. On my floor now, I thought. And damn, it was coming from two directions at once. My sleep fogged brain formed the hypothesis that the culprits might be higher than a kite on some street drugs. Irritation migrated to a nagging worry. Might be time to call security.
The pounding progressed from door to door steadily closing in on my apartment. I heard muffled voices. Not a good sign. Worry ratcheted up a few notches. A bit late to call security now. I’d have to turn on the light. A crack of light under the door would tip them off that I was there. Maybe security was already on the way, I hoped.
Minutes later the pounding on my door began. Doubled up fists hammering away like Lucifer himself had risen from Hades. No way on God’s green earth I’m answering the door at this ungodly hour to some unknown, raving madman, I vowed. If it sounded like someone was in distress, I would call security. Otherwise, let them pound away until they lost interest.
What happened next made my heart hit overdrive. The hall light in my apartment came on. They got in! Holy crap, they got in! As I jumped out of bed wondering what the hell to do, a voice called out: “Peel regional police! Is anybody here?”
Turns out the police had received a 911 call from the building but didn’t know which apartment it came from. They had to check every single unit to find the caller. I doubt that anyone answered the door. In any event, after a quick check of my apartment and an apology, they moved on.
I looked out my 18th floor window and counted ten police cars in front of the building. Yes, ten. I’ve never seen that many police cars together in one place ever. I can only imagine what that 911 caller was up against.
In the aftermath of this little drama, I began to wonder what it would be like to live in a country where incidents like this might be a regular occurrence. I remembered former neighbours who described running from bombing on numerous occasions in their native Bosnia. Imagine the psychological impact of living with that pulsing fear every day week in and week out.
Perhaps this thunder in the night, I reasoned, was in its own way a metaphor for just how fortunate I am. Here the manic thumping on the door was the police responding to a cry for help. On the other side of the world the situation might be radically different. It could be the unfolding of that dark night of the soul you had been dreading for years.
One night’s broken sleep was worth the lesson. Never take for granted just how fortunate you are. Respect and honour the brave souls – the police here at home and the Armed Forces abroad – who make it their mission to serve and protect. We sleep soundly at night because they make it possible. I am truly grateful.
~ Michael Robert Dyet is the author of “Until the Deep Water Stills – An Internet-enhanced Novel”. Visit Michael’s website at www.mdyetmetaphor.com or the novel online companion at www.mdyetmetaphor.com/blog.
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Tags: 911 · armed forces · knock at the door · metaphor · Michael Robert Dyet · policeNo Comments