Picture this. You’re walking down the street, watching an epic fail compilation. You’re laughing along as you watch person after person fall into hole or fall off skateboard. You’re so distracted that you don’t even realize the pole in front of you, so you smash into it. How embarrassing. It could have been worse. There could have been people around. You could have broken your nose. You could have wandered into the street, completely unaware of your surroundings. A driver could have been driving along, also distracted by their phone. They could have collided with you, instantly shattering every single bone in your body. One of the bone fragments could have pierced your heart, leaving your brain alive to receive the screaming signals sent up from your bleeding chest, and the driver continues, laughing at funny videos while the tires of their car squash your body to the point where it bursts open in some areas, and then, finally, the distracted driver speeds off, completely unaware of their crime. Now you’re left there, and as you lay on the street, dying, blood bursting from the 34 new holes in your body, which has been flattened into a bloody pancake, you wonder. Why did this have to happen?

This is the sort of dream you have when you feel like you’re losing control of your life, or so they say. But during my lonely Thanksgiving, I had no dreams. Here is my story:

The clock ticks. I lay in bed with a headache from eating too much food. My world used to be a land where time was a spectrum. There existed Tuesday, last Wednesday, this morning, tonight, next week, and 7 o’clock. Now, time exists in three parts: the past, the present, and the future.

In the past, I would never go more than three days without seeing my brother. Almost every day was an adventure. We would see old trains, dodge eyeballs, hop on poker chips, dash from ashtray to ashtray, turn scary rabbits and pool balls inside out, climb inside the bowels of the largest giants and prepare meals that could wow even the toughest of critics… and then there’s now.

Now, as I lay in bed, the clock ticks. Every tick feels the same. Yesterday feels like today, this morning feels like this evening, 4:00 feels like 5:00, a minute ago feels like now. I turn my head from the past to the future, and I see something shouting in the distance.

I see something from when my computer has finally died, something from when I have graduated high school, something from when humans have gone extinct, something from when the continents have merged into one, something from when all the diamond rings in the world have turned to graphite, and that something is the next big adventure I’ll go on with my brother. With every step forward I take, that something takes twenty-seven. I walk, it runs; I run, it flies; I fly, it hops to the moon. Although the rest of my family is a phone call away, I will always remember the few times I got to see them in person, when I got to see my brother’s new hair, even if it was only for a moment. I can only imagine how monotonous the present would be without my mom and dog.

Outside my world, it’s Sunday, so I will be going to school tomorrow. At school, I will see my other friends. I will have work to do. I will visit my teachers. Time will begin to flow again for me, just as it has been doing for everyone around me.

I give my brother a call. He picks up and says he’s going to take another test. Once he hangs up, I wait eagerly for the results.