Studying conjures up Twilight Zone
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” said the teacher as I wrote down an answer to one of his tests. I looked, up, then back at my answer. Then I changed it.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he said again. So I changed my answer again.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he said, at my next two answers. Then I was worried. For, he didn't like any of the answers I put down, but, one of the answers was correct, because it was a multiple choice test. I began to break out in a sweat as I pondered over the question.
Luckily, the teacher wandered off to mentally torture another victem, uhh, student.
I finally got to the point where I had answered all the questions I could remember the answer to, unfortunately, if I went to turn in the test, I would be the first one done, and I hate being the first one done, as I can't hide my test on the bottom of the stack. And this particular teacher loves looking at the test as it's being passed in. So I waited. And waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited, and waited again. Then, just as I was about to hand in my test, I waited. Then I looked at my watch.
Only thirty seconds had passed. And the teacher was on his way towards me …
I gave in. I handed my test in. The teacher glanced at it.
“Are you sure you want to hand it in?”
I grabbed my test, and changed all the answers. I handed it in again.
“Are you sure?” said the teacher again.
I changed all my answers again.
“Are you positive? You still have the chance to make any corrections,” he said.
And then, something came over me. I grabbed the teacher (not the test) by the collar, and screamed “Stop playing games with my mind!” I shook him, threw him to the ground, and then pretended I was going to body slam him. All he could say was “Are you sure you want to do this?”
I was just about to give him an elbow drop when two men in white burst into the classroom, strapped a coat with sleeves extra-long on me, and dragged me out while four thousand harmonic llamas sang “Nearer My God to Thee” off in the distance …
I then took a look at what was going on. It seemed quite real to me, but the four thousand harmonic (quite harmonic at that) llamas just didn't sit right with me. In fact, I turned to one of the guys dragging me off and said “This is really silly.”
He replied “I'm okay, your okay, hey, we're all okay. Isn't that right, Kilroy?”
“Yup, you got that right, Murphy,” replied the other guy. It was too much for me. I refused to go along with what was happening, and woke up.
[the follow paragraphs were cut in the published version —spc]
I lay there thinking about the dream I just had. I had heard once that eating before going to sleep often caused nightmares. But somehow I just couldn't equate a perreronii and sausage pizza with half a liter of Coke with a psychotic teacher, two medics from a mental institution named Murphy and Kilroy, and four thousand harmonic llamas singing “Nearer My God to Thee.”
Then I thought about the test I had in Calculus, and the two I had in German (written and oral) that day, and I could see the connection between those tests and a psychotic teacher and two medics from a mental institution named Murphy and Kilroy. But the four thousand harmonic llamas singing “Nearer My God to Thee” just didn't fit. But at that point, something totally bizarre happened.
“An ordinary college student,” said this strange, yet somewhat familiar voice out of nowhere, “on an ordinary night. But, in a few minutes, he'll have a dream.” Then, this strange music started playing, faintly at first, but slowly building, two notes up, two down. Something about it was familiar, but I couldn't pin it down. “A dream so horrifying that it could only come from, the Twilight Zone.”
“Rod?” I said quietly.
But, by then, I had found a connection to the four thousand harmonic llamas singing “Nearer My God to Thee.”
I have got to stop watching TV when studying.