First of all, I hate my mattress. Way too firm. So that’s one reason I’m awake. I also have a habit of eating sweets before bed.
But lately I’ve been tossing and turning, wondering what lies ahead for me at college. I always start with the big questions, like what if I lose my shower caddy, or how do I take my coffee again? Those two take me a solid 20 minutes to sort through (on average).
Sometimes I imagine myself at a party. It’s sort of like an ice cream social without ice cream. By that I mean it’s a group of people and they’re having fun and no one looks hungry. I scope the place out and I like what I see. I introduce myself to Stew, a nice young man from Boston. He’s in Davenport. He seems cool, the conversation flows nicely; he loves my sweater. A pretty lady approaches us. She’s a junior, which is very intimidating. Wait! She likes my sweater too! I then turn on my lights and remember that I’m in my room and that Stew is just my pillow and the girl hasn’t even been born yet.
My hopes are dashed and my mind wanders again. This time I’m in a classroom. My professor is a tall, dark-haired gentleman with a strong jaw — looks like he’d be a good dancer. He’s talking fast about the troubles of common law marriage.
Class hasn’t started yet. I look around: Everyone has an iPad, except me. When the lecture begins I suddenly have to go to the bathroom. I run out of the class, fall out of bed, and stumble to my toilet.
My last thoughts before I finally fall asleep take place in my dorm. I’m sitting in the common room getting to know my new roommates. One of them is an avant-garde taxidermist who brought a sheep’s head for our mantelpiece. The others look around; they seem as bewildered as I do. However, I have to say the sheep is coy at first, but a trusted confidant when you get to know him. All of a sudden I’m hungry — famished even. Where do I go for food? One of my roommates offers me a Gobstopper, but I had a traumatic experience with those as a child (it involves a bottle of ketchup and two other bottles of ketchup). I then imagine the dining hall. It’s a dignified space with lots of lettuce. I sit down with my plate at a long table and start eating. It’s then that I usually come to and find myself downstairs drinking sunblock from the bottle. After my snack I fall asleep.
Anyway, I should go; looks like it’s finally time to wake up for school. (And good luck decoding the secret message I left in the column!)
Jack Schlossberg is a freshman in Trumbull College.