When they want me to write something to school...
It was
three o’clock in the morning when the phone rang. But there was no answer when
I picked it up. Then the alarm clock began to ring. I let it rang, too sleepy
to get up from my bed. But the alarm clock was cunning and cruel and long time
ago did he decide that no one would stay in bed after hearing its voice. And so
he continued ringing. For hours he rang and rang, delighted for listening to
itself. Finally I gave up and left the bed. I wasn’t too tired to do so, but it
gave me an uneasy feeling that I shouldn’t have done so; perhaps because of a
blurred memory of a call early in the morning. If I’d been curios, I might have
taken the phone, looked at the display and redial the number. But I didn’t do
it. Instead, I walked to the door, decided to follow my daily ritual.
But the
door was locked. Confused and still a bit sleepy, I kept trying over and over
again, until my mind slowly came to the only logical conclusion.
“The door’s
locked.” I said, just to say anything.
And so it
was. Sitting on my bed, thinking the whole problem over, I suddenly recalled
another blurred memory in which I was locking the door while whistling my
favourite song. It took a lot of effort but I finally remembered where to look
for the key. And so I did. Then, with both the key and a victorious grin, I
reached the door again and unlocked it.
A desert
greeted me with all its hotness and sweat. I could almost feel the sand trying
to erode me. I quickly closed the door and locked it. After a while, I put the
key back in the keyhole and opened the door. I saw a club, full of people, with
artificial smoke in the air and I could hear the most unpleasant version of
music (that is the one which even on the friendly volume would push your brain
cells out of your skull through your nose). The door banged close. On the third
attempt I appeared to be looking at a bunch of people sitting in a room with
their notebooks open and their eyes fixed upon a smart looking person who was
just lecturing them about some deadline or something. But before I could find
any reasonable explanation, the man who was talking suddenly came to my door.
“This class
isn’t over yet.” And with that he disappeared behind the closing door.
Although
feeling slightly depressed, I kept on searching for my reality.
Then
finally, after a long period of time, there was a room full of books. I took
one with me and went back to bed, trying not to think about anything absurd.
Just in case I fell asleep while reading.