Time Bandit

x woke to the sound of a buzzer buzzing he rolled to his left and fell out of a cloud.  Soaring down towards the earth at a million miles an hour; the water vapor streaming off his cheeks, cooling him.  It was refreshing. A refreshing death. A perfect tuck, spin and a splash into the stars.

His hands slapped the alarm and sent it back a foot and off his desk.  Two blinks, a wink, and a frown later he was up. Time check, plenty to spare.  Let’s do this. But who can sleep knowing the alarm will go off, or maybe not?  A true tragedy.  So x faded into purgetory, a hazy mist of sleep that was weirdly plesant.  He knew he was not asleep, but his mind was running wild and his body was free from obligation.

Standing in front of the bird bath x leaned over to peep his reflection. Nothingness: a dark pool of stars, a koi fish and a rubber ducky, but no reflection.  He ran his fingers through the stars in a clockwise circle, but the ripples did a zig zag.  A flick of the wrist and he was painting mountains with his fingers.  Controlling his landscapes and weathers.  Creating a world a two before the snooze function on his alarm decided to ass fuck his pleasent dream.

Disturbed by the idea of being disturbed, he opened his eyes.  Twenty seconds had passed

What is time?  Stupid question…what is the relevancy of time in a dream?  Clearly it is not in a linear relationship with time outside our dreams?


This is the beginning of a short story I am writing about a kid who learns to control time in his dreams.  He gets stuck and then has to decide weather or not it is really living if it is a dream, and if it is enjoyable if he conscience of the fact that it is a dream.  There will probably be some boobies too.

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