Whiplash

The interviewer is sitting on the other side of the polished wood table, reading over my meticulously crafted resumé with only a slightly intimidating posture. Nevertheless, I am prepared to crush this ten-minute conversation. Or wait, am I supposed to be in here for thirty minutes?

Doesn’t matter. Either way, I am sitting in this chair with the utmost confidence. Well actually, I am starting to feel a bit nervous. Maybe it’s just the lack of air conditioning. Or perhaps it is the just the fact that hospitals make me unexplainably anxious. Regardless, Dr. Alvarez is almost done reading over my medical records. I’m praying he does not have to give me any shots. The sun is beginning to set, causing me to worry about falling asleep while my teacher asks questions.

I knew I shouldn’t have signed up for a night class. However, the powerful air conditioning makes my body too cold to slip into a relaxed dream state. I’m starting to notice other students giving up on fighting their fatigue as Mrs. Lang’s voice drones on and on. Finally, the bell rings and I get to clock out for the day.

Working in sales for a paper company has never been the most glamorous job. But at least I don’t have to work late nights like the manager, although the pay increase would be nice. Maybe then I could afford my own car. My boyfriend pulls parks next to me in his beat-up sports car, and we head over to my first college party.

Too bad I won’t be able to tell my parents about all the fun I’m going to have tonight. The deal was they would pay for my tuition to where I didn’t have to work on top of attending classes so long as I didn’t go to parties. But here I am anyway at the fraternity house, dressed up in a rather scandalous outfit with more makeup than I can afford. As I walk into the room filled with loud music and raving lights, I make my way over to the beautiful and quaint table set up for a relaxing evening.

My wife and daughters have on their adorable costume dresses resembling the Victorian era. I ask for the plastic teapot to be passed when suddenly my back and face begin to sweat. I normally am very calm around my family but in this instance, I’m beginning to feel as though something is wrong. My younger daughter hands me the pastel yellow cup of sugar while I try to keep my hotdog lunch from coming out of my mouth on the third loop of the roller coaster.

I don’t want to puke and repulse the girls in my class. I’ve never had a date to the homecoming dance, and I’d rather not have this year be a continuation of the repetitive lonely embarrassment. The ride finally ends, and my buddies decide it’s a great idea to try out the maze of mirrors. I notice one of the circus clowns staring at me while juggling a few bowling pins. I normally would appreciate the talent, but the entertainment is being overrun by an apprehensive awareness. We enter the tent and my nausea immediately increases. My head is spinning seeing the hundreds of reflections of myself. I close my eyes, realizing my legs are about to give in, until I open my eyes to the relieving view that is a shimmering river.

The open sky calms my nerves for a moment before I lock eyes with the man sitting face-to-face with me in the tiny wooden boat. I don’t know who he is. I have a feeling I’ve seen him before, but where? I have no idea. He begins to paddle vigorously as the rain starts pouring down and lightning strikes. A vicious wave flips our boat, and I’m launched into the water. I struggle to stay afloat, doing my best to flail my arms and legs in unison. Unfortunately, my efforts are in vain. The freshwater begins filling my lungs until I am pulled out of the swimming pool by two sets of hands and onto the burning concrete.

My coughing up of the chlorine liquid causes everyone at the cookout event to look at me in a disgusted manner. They stop playing their yard games to stare at me. I’m causing a scene, but I don’t even know who any of these people are. I don’t recall ever jumping into the pool. The two girls who heaved me out begin to open their mouths as if to tell me something important before the entire cast comes out onto the stage to do their final bow.

The audience’s thundering applause matches the rapid beating of my heart. I don’t know where I am or how I got here. The actors are wearing country clothes. No, fantasy wear. No, vintage dress. Each change brings out another agonizing round of applause. I close my eyes again hoping for some type of mercy from whatever being is struggling to decide my fate. One of the actresses locks eyes with me in a way that feels as if she knows me. Right as I am about to pinpoint the place where I’ve seen her before, my feet are pedaling as fast as they can on the flat road.

I have no idea where I am going. The street is empty until I notice a car is barreling towards me, blaring its horn. I shut my eyes, preparing for the inevitable. I reopen my eyes and notice I am sitting at a polished wooden desk.

My heart is racing, but I am clueless as to why. I get a sense I have just been in a dangerous situation. I’m sweating profusely under my suit. I notice the air conditioning system is broken but I have a suspicion that is not why I feel like passing out. As I’m looking around the room, I get a sense of déjà vu. Despite my uncomfortableness, I force myself to maintain a proper posture. A polite knocking distracts me from the sense that something is wrong. The door slowly creaks open.