The cynical ringing of bells fills the dark room, now partly illuminated by a tiny rectangular patch of white. A battlefield strewn with open notebooks, four seperate mountains of books and motionless carcasses of pens comes into view. The loud snores break their rhythm to listen to the intrusion, only to be on their way a second later, unfazed. Having nowhere to go, the sinister sounds enter my slumber, demanding to be heard.
A few unsuccessful attempts at ignorance later, I find myself climbing down from the bunk bed, one painful step at a time, a life-threatening stumble here and there. I switch off the dreadful thing, wondering why anyone in their right mind would call this horrible tune, originating from the depths of Naraka itself, “daybreak”.
Lights on. Chair out.
I resume my work from the night before, struggling to fight off the gravitational forces of my bed as I attempt to puzzle out how much velocity is required to project a body into space. After a while the book seems to be exerting a force on me as well, and on two or three occasions I wake up with a jerk to find my face glued to the book.
Talk about being addicted to Facebook.
Polar satellites are low altitude satellites that go around the poles of the earth in a north-south direction. It is extremely useful in gathering information used in meteorological dep-TRRRIINNGGG
My eyes fly open and I stare at the old fashioned alarm clock on my desk, it’s ringing startling the heartbeat out of me.
For the next half an hour or so, every alarm in my room takes turns doing its part to wake me up, until I find myself unable to blink. Foresight can be a pain in the butt.
A feeling of deja vu sets in. I suddenly get this weird feeling I’ve read these things already, in this precise environment, sitting in the exact position I am in now…
Oh. That’s right. I’ve been rereading the same paragraph for the past 15 minutes.
I recall how my subconsciousness once tricked my brain into thinking I was studying by dreaming about it. This essentially meant that while I thought I was being productive, I was, in fact, snoring peacefully at my desk. It wasn’t until my sister woke me up to annoy me did I realise what was going on.
Wait. What if…?
Five minutes later, I give up my search for a tiny object to spin on the table, telling myself Inception was just a movie. Right?
I’d successfully made it to the fifth paragraph (progress!) when the soothing tones of a sparrow chirping by a gurgling stream, accompanied by the soft hum of the light breeze and the rustling of Sun-lit leaves take my imagination to the woods, where the Sun rays caress my face in affection. The wind plays with my hair (reminder: haircut) and a thousand smells attack my nose. I’d forgotten what it was like to be one with nature again.
All this is cut short when my father shuts his alarm off. Why couldn’t my alarm be so peaceful?
He makes his way to the bathroom, and I adopt a demeanor of intense concentration as he passes by. My mother wakes up next, followed by my sister. Soon the house is filled with sounds of brushes against teeth, utensils being pulled out for use, and the crunching of cereal. Outside, a faint blue light falls upon the neighbouring apartment, and one by one the windows show signs of life. A bird calls out in the distance.
The day has begun.