I come back home, well everyone does at the end of their day.
I come back home, eyes half open, brain closed. I jump onto my bed into my dreams.
I dream, well everyone dreams.
I dream a lot, I travel. I travel a lot.
Into places unknown, I travel. Sometimes I, hold up, time travel.
Well, ever been in bed and the next thing you realise is, the bladder is calling, you are facing approximately 297.5° to the West North West and you don’t know which side is the wall?
It’s not the gravitational force, neither is it the size of your head. Think about it.
It is something we call “The Rotational Matrix“
“Rotation of vectors in 3D space by a rotation matrix”
It’s just another linear transformation in your rather very straight horizontal sleeping posture.
I wake up and my foot is in my mouth, my mouth is under the pillow, the pillow out of the mosquito net.
Down the stairs I indolently walk, like a half fed Zombie, eyes closed. To the loos that I seek, the loos I’m accustomed to. I manage to locate that round white cistern thing. *If you’re racist, you know what I mean.
Fighting to remove my phone from the back pocket lest it falls into the loathed drainage. I had slept fully clothed in jeans and my favorite blazer again. I had been jaded, so worn out, that I passed out.
Here I am, eyes closed, senses alert, faced with making sure the last drop doesn’t land on my feet, worse still on the floor.
See am fighting that very stupid gravitational law. “For every drop out of the urinary tract, the last drop must always land at the least distance to the dispenser’s foot.”
Whether it lands or not, I don’t care. The magnetic force of the warm bed coupled with the curiosity of what lies inside the duvet is hard to fight. It is slowly pulling me closer, like warm fresh blood to an old vampire.
Am back in the bed, back in the mix of things. The trade off between the tweet-urge and the aroma of the paused dream, the unfinished time travel journey sets in. Eyes shut.
Next thing am in a different world far from this realm.
The levitations begin, the magic carpet, the bullet dodging, the drones, the programming code, all in a “Musketeers mode”.
The thoughts of early in the day, the conversations, the whirls of the wind, the stench around that Bugolobi stretch, all fight for representation.
For he that sleeps 4 hours a night, all the day’s hullabaloo is in the mix and it’s quite amazing that he never wakes up tired. He’s the earliest, bird or worm, who knows? This dream comes in, the other jumps the queue and slides in.
Boom, Stochastic Matrix,the probability of a dream being experienced twice is sorted out thence. No more time travel reversal, no deja vu’s in sleep. The natural alarm sets off, it’s morning again and whatever wins the battle decides if I call in sick that day or if I arrive first at work, like always.
But now, that first rain drop that hits the roof calls in the Column Matrix. This one isn’t a joke, it brings me to it’s level and with a sucker punch. Before I know, I’m on the canvas. Half defeated, one sleep minute is the equivalent of ten clock minutes. The sleep is sweetest at this time. I don’t want to sleep anymore but I’m perfectly aligned, trapped.
The duvet is stapled on my body, I don’t even remember to call the Line Manager. Before I know it, it’s 10am, it’s late and there’s nothing I can do. I decide to enjoy the moment.
The only regret is when I pick the dismissal letter from Human Resource a week later.