Moments later,
I was awaken by the intolerable temperature drop, the storm booming without in
solemn swells. Then the air seemed wailing from inside the tent. I could hear
the ice-cold dews striking and dripping over our now nearly useless tent. I
checked my phone for the time only to find out that it was only a little over
an hour since I fell to that shallow slumber. My body was chilling and I could
feel the ground freezing. It was literally the coldest night I have ever been in my entire life. What made it even worse was, I think I wasn’t well-prepared enough.
I
fell asleep a few more times but woke up just as often. Whenever deep sleep was
about to arrive, I would shrink back and wake up due to the unsettling cold,
then sleep and wake again, in what seems to be an endless repetition. It felt dreadfully cold,
but there was no help for it. So I pulled my freezing self together, got in between the sheets, and pushed myself to the best of my ability to fall asleep. Every waking hour was a déjà vu growing worse
with every turn, more of the same, one more time around.
For
the first time in a long time, I uttered some evening prayers for the Pulag
gods or whomever out there that exists to please calm the icy storm. I kept my vigil, but to no expense. And then
a notch-lower temp began to squeeze on further while the clock spanked me
with the fact that it was just eight o’clock in the evening. It was the longest night I should
know, a dark one, truly full of terrors.
I
hardly had a good sleep since then. I laid there dismally calculating the
remaining hours I had to endure. Seven, six, five.. and the night was getting
far even colder. The thought and the actual cold nearly caused me hypothermia, but then I had to
endure, along with the lesson on how the cold could inspire fear. To which I
swore not to do ever again.
