I am exhausted, but I dread going to bed, because the fire dragon in my chest attacks when I lie down.
When my eyes start to sting to tell me they really need to shut down their eyelids, I finally put aside my book, pull out the extra pillows behind my back, turn off the bedside light and lie my head on the pillow. It feels so good to lie flat and I start to slip into my dream. However, this is when the fire dragon comes.
I feel a little fireball igniting at the bottom of my stomach. First, it gives me a little itch as the fireball gets ready to roll up. Quickly it gathers momentum and shoots upward through my chest with an unstoppable force. It makes me spring up from my pillow to let it explode out of my throat with a thunder, leaving a burning trail behind, like the tail of a comet blazing through the dark sky. The force of explosion is so strong that it seems to drag the bottom of my stomach with it pulling my inside out of my throat. As if to make this inside-out job more thorough, the first explosion is followed by several explosions, one after another, each more violent than the previous one, until I bend over with both my hands pressing down on my abdomen trying to sooth the muscles strained by these sudden outbursts.
I am left with a charcoaled trail in my chest. The fire dragon has charged through the tranquil field of my chest, burned black where it touched, leaving red flames still flickering and licking like the tongues of snakes. The dragon’s sharp claws raked through my throat leaving a wave of piercing pain.
I remember to breath, but the fresh air into my chest ignites the embers and I have to let out a few more fiery eruptions depleting the last bit of energy left in my body. My forehead is sweaty; my eyes are teary; my stomach is twisted into a tight knot; and I am utterly consumed.
This is how my body defends its airway against any potential obstruction from bronchitis mucus.