I call the receptionist just to verify my appointment. After dropping off my two kids at daycare, I roll into the parking lot of my oral surgeon's office, and run into the building. The receptionist, a young blonde lady in her early twenties, greets me with an overly-warm welcome, and a wide-mouthed showy smile. Soon, I am called in to begin prep for my surgery. I will be getting all four of my wisdom teeth removed.
The doctor, Dr. Dom, slowly lowers the mask over my nose and mouth, and the world slowly turns black . . .
I feel my body moving as the blurriness slowly comes into focus. I awaken and attempt to lift my hand to rub the sleep out of my eyes, but find my left wrist in a handcuff latched to a briefcase. Quickly, I stand up and dig through my pockets to find a thick padded, folded paper that is yellowed with age. I slowly unfold the paper with my right hand. Layer after layer after layer. . .blank . . .the note appears completely blank as I continuously flip it from back to front. In my bewilderment, I forget to survey my surroundings. After a quick glance over, I realize that I am in a single moving empty train car. The only thing to be found in the entire car is a postcard-sized note on the ceiling that says, "IT'S HAPPENING."
I sink to my knees, and attempt to open the briefcase, an old leathery brown covering with a large gold clasp. As soon as I undo the clasp, the briefcase swings wide open. Inside lies a single pen made of ethereal glass, and a sliver of paper which reads, "Use Careful, Be Wareful. Only once may you see." After clicking the pen, a violet-white light begins to illuminate from within the fragile glass container. Perhaps, the light would work like in those detective movies, I think to myself. Slowly, I move the light over my blank paper, and the word "NOW" appears.
The glass pen bursts into a million tiny shards in the air as the briefcase slams shut and rams into my side as if blown by a gust of wind, and suddenly a wave of sleepiness causes me to drift into dream.
I rub the blurriness out of my eyes as the world comes to focus . . .
The doctor, Dr. Dom, slowly lowers the mask over my nose and mouth, and the world slowly turns black . . .
I feel my body moving as the blurriness slowly comes into focus. I awaken and attempt to lift my hand to rub the sleep out of my eyes, but find my left wrist in a handcuff latched to a briefcase. Quickly, I stand up and dig through my pockets to find a thick padded, folded paper that is yellowed with age. I slowly unfold the paper with my right hand. Layer after layer after layer. . .blank . . .the note appears completely blank as I continuously flip it from back to front. In my bewilderment, I forget to survey my surroundings. After a quick glance over, I realize that I am in a single moving empty train car. The only thing to be found in the entire car is a postcard-sized note on the ceiling that says, "IT'S HAPPENING."
I sink to my knees, and attempt to open the briefcase, an old leathery brown covering with a large gold clasp. As soon as I undo the clasp, the briefcase swings wide open. Inside lies a single pen made of ethereal glass, and a sliver of paper which reads, "Use Careful, Be Wareful. Only once may you see." After clicking the pen, a violet-white light begins to illuminate from within the fragile glass container. Perhaps, the light would work like in those detective movies, I think to myself. Slowly, I move the light over my blank paper, and the word "NOW" appears.
The glass pen bursts into a million tiny shards in the air as the briefcase slams shut and rams into my side as if blown by a gust of wind, and suddenly a wave of sleepiness causes me to drift into dream.
I rub the blurriness out of my eyes as the world comes to focus . . .