failing like never before


The Dream

My computer science class ended early and I got back to my room early. Having througly exhausted my mental faculties throughout the day, I decided it was time to test my physical limits. I changed my clothes and headed for the gym. It was five o' clock, you had just climbed into bed to take a nap and our other roommate was reading the news.

I ran a little less then three miles on the track. My fear of treadmills has not faltered ever since I fell on my uncle's when I was eight. I lifted weights for an hour, until my muscles burned and I felt I had no strength left. The vastness and opulence of the school gym did not fail to amaze me, but for all its greatness it could not augment my strength or stamina. The weights in my hands were laughably small compared to those borne by the hulks standing besides me.

I took a long shower, turned my computer on, plowed through my RSS feed reader. It was seven o' clock, you were still sleeping soundly and our roommate was doing his homework.

I headed downstairs to meet a friend and future roommate. We were going to the fraternity of my other future roommate, although we twain had no intention of joining a fraternity. I was slightly nervous; I knew the sterotypes of fraternities and rush week. But I was surprised when I arrived and my heart warmed ever so slightly to what I beheld. There was steak to eat (along with other food stuff) and cigars to smoke (though I smoked not at all). They told me of their illustrious alumni and showed me signed photographs to convince me to join. I saw the photos of George H. W. Bush and George W. Bush and my heart grew colder. I made small talk, watched the antics of others at Rock Band, made slightly less small talk about linux, smiled and laughed. I left later on the pretext of homework and stepped out into the cool black night. I passed a dirty car with a license plate that read "pwnage" as I walked.

I returned to my room, and began reading my physics textbook. It was lacking in excitement, and proved to be quite the difficult read; simple harmonic motion belied its name. It was nigh on eleven o' clock, you still slept soundlessly and our roommate was gone.

I flossed and brushed my teeth and climbed into bed. It was twelve o' clock, our roommate was back and also preparing for sleep, and you still lay dead to the world.

I awoke to the groanings of the garbage truck and pushed my glasses on. I saw the form of your body at the other of the room, still unmoving. "Perhaps he's dead," I thought blearily, "perhaps he took too many sleeping pills." After all, sleeping for so long is unnatural. My sleep-fogged mind thought of checking your pulse, but my body rejected it as too stenuous an activity.

Eventually, the haze cleared from my mind and I rose to begin preparing for the day. All thoughts of your death forgotten, my active mind having catalogued such thoughts as the wanderings of a tired and delusional brain. I packed my bag, ate my breakfast (a granola bar), brushed my teeth, changed my clothes, headed for the door. My hand was upon the doorknob when I looked back and saw your still form, and I couldn't help but wonder. I, who had never slept longer then twelve hours, could never lie unmoving for so long.

I saw you shift your weight. It was nine o clock.

The dream had ended; this was the morning.

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