Distortion of Memory

A million things immediately force themselves into my brain. The air smells like sweat mixed with heat. There’s the slight murmur of a crowd somewhere in the room and I’m sitting on uncomfortable plastic bleachers. Where am I?

“Okay guys, so today we’re going to do that test that you guys have been preparing for all semester,” the voice of my high school gym teacher announces. I force my eyelids open, fighting against the bright, fluorescent lights. The high school gym. No no no no no no...

Someone passes around thick testing packets that I flip through with bemusement. Nothing looks familiar. I start to panic. Suddenly, ethereal music begins and I jerk my head. A tall brunette, wearing a tutu and pointe shoes, dances perfectly across the grimy floor. She spins and leaps with perfect form, something I could never achieve. I start to feel nauseas, so I sneak to the bathroom, accidentally taking my test with me.

When I enter the gym again, it is dark and desolate. For some reason, instead of feeling alone and panicked, I finally feel calm and safe. I decide to attempt to complete my test, since I will be locked in the gym all night. Sometime between anger at the confusing questions and the beginning of apathy towards this whole situation, I slowly drift off into slumber.

I sit up and look around. Sunlight dapples the dirty, gum covered bleachers. I find my way out of the gym, and realize I am in the middle of a forest. After forcing myself through a corpse of thorny bushes, I come upon a group of teenage girls. Oddly enough, they are wearing pajamas and rolling up sleeping bags. Huh. I continue walking, until I arrive at the school building. Inside, hundreds of police officers with guns and riot gear crowd the entrance. I immediately wonder if this is somehow my fault as I walk past them without them acknowledging my existence. I wonder who they are waiting for.

When I get to the front office, I ask the front desk people who I can talk to about leaving school early. This has been an awful day. I just want to go home and rest. “Um...” one woman says, while looking at her computer. “You can go talk to your guidance counselor. Maybe she can help.” She waves me away dismissively and I trudge out of the office. I wish she had let me go to the nurse instead.

I knock on the guidance counselor’s door. Her voice lazily lollops through the wood. “Come in,” she says. The door sqeaks open and I glance around her small office. She is at her desk, playing Candy Crush while eating m&ms. I sigh. “I want to go home. I’m not feeling well.” She stares at her computer screen and nods. “Mmhmm. Hmm?” I try to hide my annoyance, and respond politely, “May I call my grandmother, please?”

“No...no,” she mumbles. “You’ll have to go to the front office for that. Also if you don’t need anything else, please leave. You’re being slow.” I groan inwardly. I want to scream, “You’re the one being slow!” but a line is forming behind me, and I don’t want to embarrass myself.

I force my way past the other students and angrily kick a rock. It tumbles down the hallway. No one is around, and I just don’t care anymore, so I start talking aloud. “I hate this so much! Everything seems to be going wrong. This is a nightmare!” Wait a second... what if this is a nightmare?

I open my eyes and I am safe in my cozy bed. It is morning. It is summer. I sigh. I am okay, for now.