I had one of those strange, surrealistic dreams this morning. It was a fleeting one.
I had woken up at 7:20 to the sound of my alarm; but because I knew I only had to leave the house at 8:30, I let myself fall back again onto the somnolent cushions. I closed my eyes, while trying my hardest to not slip into the cool, beckoning slumber, as is the practice every early morning. But when I awoke for the second time, it was 9:00.
I panicked – how could I make it to school in one hour? And that doesn’t even include the time I’ll need for freshening up and getting ready. At first I did not doubt anything; all I thought was of how embarrassing it would be for me to walk into class an hour late. Then I thought about asking my mother to send me straight to school. Or that maybe I should skip the lesson completely. Suddenly, in the midst of all that worrying and scampering about for solutions, I remembered that I have never been late for a lesson before, and also, that I’ve had dreams exactly like this one; where the dream agent, knowing so well my fears, hastens the clock and makes me run late for every appointment.
So, for the first time in my dreams, I outwitted the dream agent; I saw through his cunning and knew that this reality was nothing more than an elaborate hoax. With that, I threw my head back onto the pillow, thinking to myself: “when I awake the the clock shall show 7:50.”