The Long Pulag Night

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 coolest moment I have ever been and unfortunately I wasn’t prepared.

Well 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 woke again, in endless repetition. It felt dreadfully cold, but there was no help for it. So I pulled my freezing self together, got between the sheets, and pushed myself to the best of my ability to fall asleep again. 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 exists. I keep my vigil, but to no expense. And then a notchlower temp began to squeeze on us further, while the clock spanks me with the fact that it was just eight o’clock. It was the longest night I should know.

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 nearly caused me hypothermia, but then I had to endure, along with the lesson on how the cold could such inspire fear. And I swore not to do that ever again.

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