I'm sitting in my living room. Alone. On my laptop, scrolling endlessly through my dashboard on Tumblr. Just another typical Wednesday night of my uneventful life.
My family is all upstairs: My parents in bed, doing whatever it is parents do when in bed. I try not to think about it, for obvious reasons. My brothers are in their respective bedrooms, playing videos games, I think. I honestly don't pay much attention to them. I wonder if that makes me a bad sibling...
On my laptop screen are images. Ones that make me laugh, ones that make me cry, and ones that make me want to rip open my chest and claw my heart out with my bare fingers.
The images are all from Doctor Who. Ten, running hand-in-hand with Rose as something blows up in the background. Nine, screaming "Everybody lives!" Eleven, crying as Amy and Rory are teleported back in time by the Weeping Angels. River Song, saying "Spoilers" for the last time in the Library.
It's all too much. I can't handle it. I'd only started watching the show a few months back, on the word of some friends who swore it was amazing, but it had already claimed a special part of my heart that I would never be able to reclaim. If only I knew what I was getting myself into the second I hit the play button on that first episode...
Sometimes I wonder to myself if it's crazy that I care so much about fictional characters.
Anyone sane person would say yes, it's flipping crazy. However, this is what I have the internet for. No matter how crazy or antisocial I think I am, I see someone else who is just as bad as me, and I feel like I'm no longer alone.
I scroll past a photo from the episode "Doomsday," where Rose is banging on the wall because she's trapped in the other universe, unable to see the Doctor again. That's the final straw. Before the tears fall, I slam my laptop closed and lean my head back.
Why do I let myself get so emotionally invested in these things? It never goes well.
I close my eyes and let my body relax. I just need a few minutes of silence. I then let my mind wander, focusing on anything other than my feels. I've been out of school for about seven months now, and I still haven't landed myself a job. My parents are getting a little bit antsy, and if I don't find something soon I fear that they'll...
You know what, that's probably not the best subject to be thinking about, either. At least not right now.
After a few heartbeats, I once again let my mind wander off. I'm not sure how long I've been laying back for, but I'm close to sleep when I hear it...
The familiar noise jars me awake. Did I leave my laptop on? Was I even playing a video? I look down at the laptop with tired eyes to see that it's exactly how I left it: In my lap, closed. Silent. I blink. I can still hear the noise, the famous noise... the noise the TARDIS makes when it materializes somewhere. I vaguely recall River Song mentioning in an episode that it only makes that noise because the Doctor leaves the breaks on. But more importantly: Am I merely imagining it now?
I look up and scan the room before me. What I see has me stunned.
There is now a dark blue police box standing in the center of my living room. The TARDIS is standing in the center of my living room! The light on top of it flashes brightly, almost blinding me because of how dim the lamps are. However, my eyes quickly adjust.
Okay, I tell myself, so I've fallen asleep. The Doctor Who universe is now leaking into my dreams. Fantastic. Like that show isn't giving me enough pain when I'm awake...
I'm in the middle of yet another mental debate about my sanity when the doors of the TARDIS fly open. I'm jarred from my thoughts and I jump to my feet instinctively. My laptop clatters to the floor. I don't even bother to check and see if it's okay, because yet again, what I'm seeing has me floored: The Doctor-but not just any Doctor, the tenth Doctor-is standing in the open doorway, blinking lights and spaceship sounds illuminate behind him.
His eyes dart around the room, taking in his surroundings, I suppose, before finally landing on me. I step forward, my eyes wide with disbelief. I can't believe it... it's so real. He's so real. It's almost as if I could reach out and touch him...
The Doctor doesn't react for a few seconds. "Oh..." He finally says. Oh, his voice is wonderful. I can't even stand it. My imagination has really done a wonder with this dream. "This isn't right."
"What isn't right?" I ask. I'm lost in his deep, fathomless eyes.
"What isn't right?" A voice from behind the Doctor asks. It sounds familiar, but I can't place it right away.
Suddenly, a different face appears. The person walks up and stands next to the Doctor. Their eyes meet mine for just a brief second before they jump out of sight, mumbling "Crap."
I can't believe it. I only saw the person for a split second, but I know exactly who it is. I mean, how could I not? Their voice, the look in their eye... the person, the one who walked up behind the Doctor like an old friend, was me. But not me. Their-my-hair was longer, and they-I-wore clothes that I would never even dream of even buying.
"It looks like we've landed a bit earlier in your timeline..." I hear the Doctor whisper to the... to the, uh... Other Me?
"Wait, what...?" I ask, completely confused. I can feel a headache coming on...
"Nothing!" The Doctor says quickly as he begins to shut the TARDIS's doors. "Just forget all about this. We're just a dream. See you soon!"
"Why did you say that? Now I'm going to figure it-" I hear my own muffled voice say as the TARDIS's doors close.
That's when it I hear it again: The noise. The light on top of the TARDIS blinks furiously. This can only mean one thing: He's leaving. They're leaving. We're leaving? I can't let that happen. I just... I can't. I run towards the TARDIS and bang my fists against the doors. "Doctor, Doctor please open the door! Doctor. DOCTOR..." As I scream, the wood underneath my hands slowly gets harder and harder to hit as it fades away. Tears run down my face. He can't just appear and then leave, not like this. Even if it is just a dream.
"Doctor..." I whisper one last time as the TARDIS vanishes for good.
I sink down to my knees. I'm left staring at the spot where the machine stood just a moment before. I stay like that for a long time, until a pain shoots up my arm and draws my attention downward.
My hands are covered in small cuts and bruises. From hitting the TARDIS so hard, I tell myself. But wait a minute... this is a dream. I shouldn't be able to feel pain.
Right?
I climb to my feet, staring down at the cuts, which are now slowly leaking small amounts of blood.
No... it can't be...
I take a quick glance around the empty living room. Everything is solid, nothing looks blurry. Typically dreams, no matter how real they feel, are blurry and jumpy. This hasn't been like any dream I've ever experienced. Which means...
No. It can't be true.
But I have to be sure. I turn and run as fast as I can up the stairs until I reach my brother's bedroom. I fling open the door and find him on the bed playing video games. I walk up to him, without uttering a word, and place my hands around his face, tilting it upward and staring at him right in the eyes.
"What are you doing?" He whines. "You're blocking my view of the game!"
No. It can't... be... true...
I release his face and slowly step backward. He's real. My brother is here. He's real. Nothing is blurry, nothing is jumpy, my hands are actually cut and bruised and bleeding. Which means...
"What happened to your hands?" My brother asks.
Instead of answering I turn and run out of the room. I end up back downstairs in the living room. I throw myself down into the chair I was sitting in before. Instead of picking up my laptop from where it lays on the floor, I stare at the spot where the TARDIS had been. Where it had actually been. Because all of this actually happened. It wasn't a dream.
Which means I just met the Doctor.
And if I assessed the situation right, I'd meet him again one day.
There's still a part of my brain telling me this was all a dream. That I finally cracked and imagined the entire thing. That TV shows, especially ones like Doctor Who, can't possibly be real. At least outside if the television. I sighed, letting the logical side of my brain drone on about the difference between reality and fantasy, that the only way this could have happened was if I dreamed it.
But knowing deep down that I hadn't.