The cereal was real

I’m terrified. I breathe in. One, two, three. And out. One, two —’

‘Maria, you’re next,’ says the substitute teacher whose name I can’t remember. 

I tell myself I can do it, but I’m not sure I can. I stand up and kick the desk. My cue cards fall and the fan disperses through the classroom. I try to pick them all up but some fly out the window.

‘I’ll be back in a second,’ I say hopeful that I’ll find my cue cards right outside the building.

‘We don’t have all day,’ he replies. 

What’s his name? Is it Wilson? Nilson? Peter? I don’t dare ask. I hold on to my cue cards and walk to the front. I wan’t to introduce myself and the topic, but I don’t remember what the topic is. I hope that card didn’t fly out the window.

I look for the card numbered ‘1 – one’ and quickly realised none of the cards are numbered. Maybe the fan removed the ink from the paper. Or not. That’s impossible.

‘You can start,’ he says annoyed.

I decide I don’t need to introduce myself or the topic. I can go straight into the actual introduction – if I have that card with me.

I look through the cards but can’t understand one word. It’s all in Japanese. I don’t speak Japanese. I can’t understand why my cards are in Japanese. I’m taking an introductory course where they recommended us to lable our furniture in Japanese and read manga. Maybe I thought writing the cards in Japanese would be a good way to practice.

I decide to improvise. Suddenly, I remember the topic. Suddenly, I forget it.

‘Have you read the book, Maria?’ he asks. 

I nod.

‘Can you tell us anything about the historical context?’ he insists impatiently.

But I can’t remember what book I’m supposed to have read.

I look out the window hoping that something in the backyard will remind me of the title. But nothing does. I look towards the back of the classroom hoping Julia will give me a hint. But she’s not there. I look at the seat behind her and there is someone else with long dark hair in a ponytail. But it’s not her. Or maybe it is. But I can’t see her face. It’s blurred.

‘I’m sorry, I’m not feeling well,’ I lie. Or – well – it’s not really a lie. Everyone’s face seems blurry. Everyone’s except for the irritated teacher whose name I can’t remember. Maybe I’m about to faint. But I’m not dizzy.

I look at the clock and the hands start to move quickly. The hours faster than the minutes. I want to point it out but my lips won’t move. I want to sit down but the fire alarm goes off and everyone runs out of the classroom carrying a chair each.

My chair is gone. It can’t be gone. There were two extra chairs. No-one would take an extra chair in an emergency. I try to remember if we’ve gone through this scenario in the simulations, but my mind is blank.

I see a polar bear entering through the window. It’s the size of a moth. But it can grow into – and act like – a beast under any one of three conditions:

One: If there are carrots in a three-metre radius. There are three carrots on the teacher’s desk, only two metres away from it.

Two: If anyone is wearing blue. This morning, I dressed in black as usual. But now, I’m wearing my blue pijamas. I’m can’t remember when – or why – I put them on again. Did I have them on during my presentation? Where they part of my presentation?

Three: If there is only one human on sight.

I’m terrified. I cover my eyes with my hands and become invisible. I’m not sure how much longer this will last, but hopefully I’ll be able to think of something by the time the bear sees me again.

But the carrots are still there. I move one hand quickly to grab them and eat them. But as soon as I stop covering both eyes I see the bear grow – first into the size of a cup, then into the size of a bowl, and then the bear is gone. I see nothing.

Maybe I’ve been eaten by the bear. I see a medic approach me. Maybe they’re here to tell me I’m dead. Maybe I’ve been rescued.

‘Where are we?’ I ask. But the medic disappears.

Instead, I see a light source getting larger and larger as it approaches me. Maybe the medic is holding up a flashlight. Maybe I’m levitating toward the sun.

The sun’s diametre is of 1.4 million km. I try to visualise that. I try to calculate how many humans it’d take to match the sun’s radius. I quickly give up and try to figure out a way to line up humans inside the sun to see how many it’d take to match the sun’s radius.

There is no light anymore. I hear my mom’s voice from afar.

‘Maria, I brought you cereal,’ she says.

I look up and see cereal rain onto me. But I see no milk.

‘Maria, you’ll be late for school,’ she says.

I need to take the train. I look at the platform’s display – ‘Cancelled trains due to cereal rain. Traffic will resume once we’ve milked enough oats.’ Someone grabs my wrist.

‘You’ll be late,’ my mom repeats.

I look back but can’t see her. Maybe my eyes are closed. I open my eyes and see her standing by my bed.

‘I will go once they’ve milked enough oats,’ I say.

She looks confused. I am confused.

‘I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean,’ she says.

I don’t know either. But I pretend I do.

‘Forget it. I’ll get ready now,’ I say. I’m wearing a black denim jacket, a pair of black denim trousers, and a black cotton t-shirt. Maybe I left my pijamas in my dream.