I wake with a start as my teacher grumbles, skritching away at the chalkboard. I've dozed off again. Why does it seem to be that no matter how much sleep I get the night before, I always can't stay awake during class? I prop my chin on my fist and I struggle to stay awake…but my eyelids are so heavy.
I'm floating on air it feels. Gliding gently on an updraft. Like a bird catching a thermal under its feathers. I look down and I can see the earth far below, but I'm not afraid.
I'm flying. The wind ruffles through my hair. I see a flash of greenish digits and then cold blue light, and a chill passes down my spine. The back of my neck tingles slightly.
A sharp kick in the rear of my desk jolts me back to reality, and I lift my head up with a jerk.
"Mister Johnson, I'm waiting."
"C-Could you repeat the question?" I say, clearing my throat.
"I said, why do some researchers now think that Mesopotamia was not the origin of history?"
I run a distracted hand through my hair, trying to think and not forget the dream I had just been having. "Umm… cause of Egypt?" I say. A few people snicker until they realize I'm right… Mr. Gilson is smirking slightly "Well Mr. Johnson, it seems like maybe you do pay attention in class, when you're not napping, that is." At this everyone giggles slightly until he hushes them and goes back to writing.
I sigh, relieved, and slump back over in my desk, feverishly taking notes and scratching the back of my neck. It still feels kind of funny.
Back to the dreary world of reality, I think, scribbling down drivel about the cradle of civilization and river valleys. I wish I was living in one of my dreams. They're always so vivid and lush. My world isn't like them. A picture perfect postcard world, crisp and clean and fresh in my sight. This world is dull and blurry to me.
Disclaimer : I don't own The Matrix. Not even a digit of its binary code. *hangs head*