I had a dream that I hit my head.

I tried to go on about my day afterwards, but there was a feeling, right at the top of my skull, that was distracting me. I touched it and realized I was bleeding.

I couldn’t stop it with makeshift bandages or willpower. I tried to pretend nothing had happened, but every time I moved, the wound got bigger. I could feel blood running down my face, but no one around me mentioned a thing. Maybe a quick second glance, then on with their lives.

I finally started screaming. In a crowded room. Screaming. And everyone’s expressions told me what I already knew. My pain was not important to their lives. Of course. I was selfish to believe it would be.

I don’t remember how it ended. I woke up thinking about that cat yesterday. The way the car hit its head. The way it bled to death in front of me, trembling. I was too afraid to touch it so I tried to speak to it softly, hoping it would be comforted. I didn’t know what else to do. After half an hour waiting for Animal Control, everyone standing around it wondered when we could leave. Not our pain. Not anymore.