I sit up against the headboard of my bed, the pink soft duvet covering my legs as my fingers work tirelessly to finish the conclusion to a never-ending essay.
I curse the thought of another year of university,
my eyes almost black with tire as swallow another gulp of cold coffee which is honestly a disgusting beverage anyways and would never again set its fowl bitterness in my mouth after graduation.
The corner of my laptop display '11:23', plenty of time to spare for the midnight cut-off.
Opening up my university submission page I finally submit the essay of the demon, aka, the 'History of the Bolsheviks.' I don't bother proof-reading.
I am glad to live here and now in the present, the lack of sewer systems was appalling but like everybody else,
I experience a sense of longing to explore other times which is what drew me to studying history. It seems so much more barbaric and alien-like.
Although I question my love for it as I glare at the words on my screen which are muddling together in mindless jabber I am certain that history will always be something I love to learn but
like everything else, I would need a break. (Maybe a permanent one from twentieth-century Russia.)
I can hear my housemate Lincoln wandering around the kitchen. It seemed every university student had the same sleep schedule - none at all.
I toss and turn for a sleepless night, the blankets tangled in my legs, making me kick them off me in anger. I sigh, lying flat staring at my ceiling.
In the corner of my eye, I see a slight movement of shadow. I sit upright, using my phone to light my room, pointing it from one corner to another.
I don't dare turn it off until every inch of my room had been checked over.
I place my phone back on charge and lay back down, facing towards my door which remained shut, Lincoln's footsteps now sounding off in the bathroom.
Maybe I just heard a weird echo of his movement in my room.
I close my eyes, willing sleep to take me and it begins to, my mind becoming foggy. But then I hear the noise again, only my eyes fly open and I see a figure standing in my room.
In the second I see them I make out a man in a suit, with a long grey beard that tied off at the end, his hand reaching out for me.
Before I can scream the sound is ripped from my throat as I feel my inside lurching around.
My train of fruitless thought ends as my body hits another solid ground that certainly is not my bed.
I can't even register my surroundings as the sleep I had been calling for hours took me by force.
It turns to day again before my eyes started to open, awakened by the screeching of an alarm clock near my head.
"I thought I turned you off," I mumble, reaching out blindly to put an end to the sound coming from my phone.
However, instead of the feeling of a cheap bedside table from Kmart, I feel loose bark, leaves and grass between my fingers. My eyes dark open but disorientated, not having woken up fully.
Colours mixed together as my right hand joins searching the ground. It also only feels the dirt ground. Can I be lucid dreaming? Surely not. It is far too real.
My eyes start to focus and I see the shape of the dark blur turn into trees, with the bare sky decorating their background. Around me seems the exact same as what lay underneath me.
It is not my bedroom and at this point, I am undoubtedly not dreaming.
I am in a forest or wood. I am not certain of the distinction but trees encase me with no city buildings or even a plain rural house insight. I stand up in an attempt to see where I am better.
Instead of woolly shorts and an old shirt that I sported as nightwear,
I am cloaked in an elaborate dress of dark blue material with golden embroidery highlighting and contouring the dress to my body. It was medieval. Something I had never worn or owned.
It felt expensive - much too expensive to be a costume.
Perhaps this is a joke my friends decided to play on me. It didn't make sense though, as I lived in the city, nowhere near a nature reserve.
And didn't have friends.
None of my belongings came with me, leaving me without my phone or even my clothes. My eyes start to water in panic. I had no idea where I stood and not the slightest clue which way to go.
I grab the skirt section of my dress, hiking it up so my legs felt freer under the heavy material as I stomp in a random direction, determined to find the old hag and strangle him by his beard.
How dare he take me from my home? And undress me as though I was a willing volunteer into this sick joke.
"If I am on a reality tv show I better be paid some decent money you sick bastards!" I yell into the air, hoping their non-existent microphones could pick it up.