Chapter 4

Something wet was slowly trickling down my forehead and my hand just itched to wipe it away and make everything sleepy again. I groaned a little with the disturbance of my peaceful slumber and made to turn around. Curse the morning and that wet something. I swear that if I ever get a place of my own someday, I’ll remove anything that can disturb me from the bedroom even if it means I’ll be late every day.

“Shh…” I heard. That reminds me, I should remove any smoke emitting object too because they make annoying shhh sounds.

“Shh…” There it goes again. There is probably a kettle in here somewhere. Wait, since when did my room have a kettle? And why do the sheets smell different?!

I sat bolt upright from the bed and starred wildly around the unfamiliar room that greeted me as soon as I opened my eyes. Nothing seemed suspicious aside from the fact that I wasn’t in any room that I recognized in my whole life. If I had woken up In Charles V’s bedroom, I would probably be less startled since it’s famous and all but this is another matter.

Not am I only late from school but my dear family will be freaking out and just plain freaking out. I can picture mother running around outside like a crazed woman and father just sitting there by the telephone looking at it blankly.

Well, I might be making things up but expecting the worst is much better than being unprepared. The next thing I knew, I was starring at a hand being waved up and down my face like I was hypnotized. I slapped it away and glared at the person who was the owner of the hand.

If you somehow slipped and landed on your face in front of hundreds of people, it wouldn’t be as humiliating if you didn’t know said people. Of course, the case would be different if these certain people are quite well-known to the point of being famous and you happen to be sporting an amazing example of bed hair and human stink.

Since I am so overly full of luck, I happened to slap away the hand of the President of the United States and kicked the Prime Minister of France in one swift action. The Queen of England managed to avoid my arm which somehow resembles a panicking mother snake but her Prime Minister isn’t quite fortunate.

My face, stripped of any ability to blush even as I was forming in my mother’s womb, turned as red as it could which isn’t much. I couldn’t really see change colors but the sensation of heat spreading to your face like hot air blowing up from a boiling pot of water is enough to clue me in my face’s amazing but newly discovered ability.

The Queen, may God bless her, gave a little wave and said “Are you alright dearie?” I almost laughed out loud in the absurdity of it all.

“She seems to be alright.” A man who was holding a stethoscope and a white doctor’s coat announced cheerfully to my right. I gave him a quizzical look and slumped back to my pillows.

Of all the dreams I’ve dreamed, this has got to be the best and by far the funniest that my brain has come up with. An author once wrote that dreams are God’s way to telling people that they are definitely off their respective rockers. This must mean that I am going bonkers in the head. Imagine, I had the honor to punch France’s Prime Minister in the gut which reminds me; the poor man really seems to be in pain.

“Alph?” The US President inquired to the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom who is currently doubled up in pain. The man gave a feeble wave and hobbled over to a nearby chair. The Prime Minister of France gave a short bark like laugh which turned into a full throated chortle with which the other Prime Minister responded with a roll of his eyes. It really must have hurt his ego more than his balls.

“Would you mind getting a pack of ice Adie?” The Queen said to a quiet maid standing by the door, half hidden in the draperies. She then proceeded to walk as queenly as humanely possible to another chair beside Alph the Prime Minister.

The US President who was standing to my right gave a little sigh which made me look at him. He looked older and more worn out somehow which in turn made me blame stress. Stress usually comes with everything and anything that can make someone think more than necessary. Programs and speeches usually make him look younger and more attentive plus seeing him from a box powered by electricity isn’t doing much help. Television makes everyone look younger than what they really are, that deceiving piece of appliance. I gave the man a quizzical look to add to his list of stress causing points.

“Good morning Ms. Lingwood.” He gave me tired smile but it was kind all the same.

“Hello Mister President!” I sang happily while starring up at him.

“Are you all right?” He asked while simultaneously looking at the doctor with a questioning look on his face.

“Of course I’m all right!” I exclaimed. “Why shouldn’t I be?” I gave him a mega watt smile. “I’m healthy as a horse.” I announced to the room at large while giving the doctor a pointed look.

“Err…” He replied with much uncertainty. I leaned over and patted his arm lightly and smiled again.

I threw the covers off and jumped of the bed, startling everyone with my sudden movement and started to tap dance of the bounce mattress.

“See? Well as a well can be.” I said while my mind slowly registered what I had absently uttered. I tried to do a pirouette but then the sheets ganged up on my legs and brought me down and sliding towards the floor in a mass of white Egyptian cotton.

“Yowzaah!” I said and rubbed my head. They all came towards me with shocked looks etched on their faces. The pain in my head spread and turned out into a full blown headache while I had the epiphany of the century.

“By any chance, am I dreaming?” I asked tentatively. I was met with pitying looks and slow but sure shakes of their heads.

The End

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