Time-traveller, M. V. Green [ebook reader with internet browser .txt] 📗

Today, I became a time-traveller.

The start of every semester is straining endeavour for those who like staying up late and sleeping into the afternoon. I am no exception to the rule and having been going to bed at 06:00 over the holidays, I found it particularly hard to suddenly begin waking up at the very same time in order to attend the 08:30 lectures. As a result of this, I overslept some courses on the first day and all of the second day. On the third day, I finally got my act together and attended the earliest of lectures. The catch, of course, was that I did not go to bed early enough to get anywhere even near enough hours of sleep, thus resembling any one of the zombies from the Dawn of the Dead throughout the day.

Once I've returned, chewed on some crisps I've bought earlier and checked my emails, an incredible sleepiness overcame me. I knew it as soon as the YouTube video I've been watching at the time slowly started to fade into the background and began to make less and less sense. "Steve Jobs criticises Google for its openness... Google CEO uses Twitter... Use our promotion code..." and finally silence. At this point, I tried shaking off the sleepiness to save some of my precious spare time for significantly more exciting tasks, such as doing the dishes and, if the stars align in a correct order, even clean my room. However, it would seem that the body often disagrees with the mind and chooses to go its own way. And so, I dosed off, falling into the very depths of sweet afternoon sleep with the laptop still displaying the red and white "Broadcast it yourself!" logo on its tiny ten inch screen.

When I woke up again, the dim October sun was sending its frail rays of light through the thick canopy of clouds and into my room. Lying there for a few minutes, a realisation struck me: It was bright already! A surge of adrenaline bursting through my veins, I jump up and recall my timetable. Thursday, first course, 09:00. Mandatory registration for the second course, 10:00. Sunrise, somewhere around 08:00. Without even thinking about it for a second, I assess the brightness and understand that it is far too bright to be anywhere near eight or even nine o'clock. Without as much as reaching for a cup of coffee I dash, like some wild herbivore escaping its predator, towards the bathroom, take the quickest shower of my life, dry my hair and frantically trying to find my toothbrush. Finally holding it firmly in my left, hair-dryer in my right, I begin to hastily brush my teeth paying no particular attention to the movements of my hand. This was not the time to play the dentist's-good-boy and waste precious seconds on circular motions, drilled into you since early childhood. With that done, I sprint back towards the only room in my apartment, tripping over a loose sock and landing squarely on my chin. Brushing off the impact, I open my eyes and notice the mobile phone lying idly before me, its single LED light blinking green in an orderly fashion. Now, almost lazily, I swipe my finger over the touchscreen, thus unlocking the device to the sound of a familiar chime.

A minutes passes as I roll over on my back, still lying sprawled on the laminate floor, and stare at the ceiling. With a final sigh of relief, I get up tossing away the cloth freshly removed from the wardrobe and go back to bed. Today was only yesterday.

Publication Date: 10-20-2010

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