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January 4, 2010

1.04.10

I am teaching two classes at a college in Saginaw. It is summer, or, it’s just warm out. For some reason, after teaching two composition classes, I have decided to enroll in a course that comes right after my teaching hours. It’s a course on some author, can’t remember.

I teach the two classes without incident, sit in on the third class, and I am riding home with a blonde girl. She is giving me a ride home. It is not a girl I have ever known. She drops me off at what was supposed to be my apartment, but is not. It is a large apartment complex. I am completely stunned/out of it. I walk in the front door of the two-story duplex. The carepeting i blue, tne cabinets are wooden and there is a large wooden cooking island in the kitchen. It looks like a kitchen out of the 80’s.

At first, I am confused, but I know that I am not at home. I have to pee really bad so I go upstairs and use the bathroom, which looks like no one has used it. There is toothpaste next to the sink, and a towel on a towel rack across from the shower, but there is no sign that anyone had been using the bathroom. It is now that I start realizing that I am not home, and that something has gone completely wrong with either me, or the universe. I hear people talking outside. I look outside and there is a large courtyard where a few people are talking at picnic benches. Suddenly, a man comes to me from another room. He is 30ish, and he is a person that I know in real life from Saginaw. Light brown hair, 5-9, thin beard.

I tell him that I have had a lapse of memory and that the last thing I remember is getting dropped off from school. He doesn’t seem to understand, and he offers me to stay there while I figure things out. It is now clear, that I have been drugged, or that time skipped forward, and I have been propelled into this other universe, or other time.

I walk out into the courtyard and suddenly I see that on a long, narrow stretch of green grass, these remote-controlled airplanes and airships are landing. These are large drones, between 10-40 ft. wingspans. I sit on a rise and watch a few of them come landing in. Then, I see my father there, he looks 50 again. He is wearing a white shirt tucked into some dark slacks. He sees me, walks up, and we begin walking slowly together around the courtyard, very close to where the planes are landing. HE tells me about the planes, and about how people fly them up very high.

I don’t remember what else we talked about. He seemed slightly irritated. I told him that I had a memory-lapse or some other problem and he didn’t respond. We parted ways, and I remember telling him that I’d be back.

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