I don’t remember all the details of this nightmare, but I remember enough of what happened to my skin and what I felt to be totally creeped out.
Something terrible but vague had happened to me – – I’d been attacked or in an accident – – and I woke up to discover that I had had a face transplant. I suppose it was better than no face at all, but it was just horrible. I felt like I was wearing a mask all the time, like I was looking out from behind a layer. There was that sensation of an edge of fabric around my eyes, like my field of vision was narrowed, because the skin didn’t fit smoothly.
When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t recognize myself at all. My face had been replaced with what only somewhat resembled a face. It was like I had been erased. Only my eyes looked familiar.
My new face didn’t fit very well. There were scars, and this is really odd seam-like scar all the way around my face in a big circle.
Finally, my face hurt. It ached all the time. And I knew I was supposed to be grateful, grateful to be alive, grateful to have any face at all. But it was just awful.