5th of October, 2007

I’m at a workplace I do not have, yet I feel so familiar here. Its lunch and I’m eating with my co-workers, my mother is here too. A co-worker gets my attention, and starts explaining something. At first I figured it would be a joke, but what he said was so intricate and complex that I soon lost him, and then stopped him from his in-depth blabber with the excuse that I was tired, still recovering from a cold (I should mention that two in my family has been ill the past few days) and I needed a snuff.

I went into what looked like an office, I suppose it was mine. There was a microphone there; I talked into it:

“So, like… Umm, I was kinda slow back there, and kinda lost what you were tryin’ to say. So like, just say ‘Sshhh’ if it was intended to be a joke and I will know”.

A clear “Sshh” can be heard from a distant room, and I soon find myself back in what I suppose is a cafeteria, but I can only remember the bench we were sitting at.

My mother was somewhat embarrassed, and my co-workers were joking about the extremity of my action, and the pathetic cause of me not understanding his joke. As I was lying down on the bench, half of the body on the floor, I replied:

“I’m not the kind of person to care what others think of me, I am who I am and I have no reason to be embarrassed”

I was going to sit up properly, but I the action of doing so woke me up, an hour had pasted since the last time I woke up. 2:03 am. There was something about my actions just a moment ago that had impressed me, but in the span of me waking up, looking at the watch, and the two seconds until I made the usual routine of looking around the room, I had not yet noticed anything unusual.

It was not fear that grabbed me, but I was definitely shocked. I had up to this point gotten used to “seeing” things when I wake up, but sometimes it just gets over the top.

All of the walls in my room were filled with bright, red text. Instantly, I was awake. Hundreds upon hundreds of things was written down everywhere. I had a faint thought about what should be written, for some reason I was expecting a lot of bad words all over the place, you know, the pain of the underworld in written form and all, but instead when I took a closer look, what was written I could not understand. There were symbols, albeit simple ones, things that looked like calculations. I looked to my right, face right to the wall. If this is indeed what one would refer to as a “hypnopompic hallucination”, then I’m quite impressed how it can wrap itself around walls and conform to the rules of perspective.

I continued to stare all over the place for the next 5 seconds, then the text became fainter and fainter, until the scribbles disappeared in a mist. I tried to go back to sleep, but I laid awake for one hour before I decided to get up.

It was neither fear nor concern that had me awake. I suppose if I was normal I’d expect such a reaction from myself, but I guess I am not.