Just Your Average Time Traveller

Restless, timeless.

It was a different dream this time. As much as I'd tried to ignore the first one, as much as I'd almost forgotten it, this one made me rethink everything. Because this time I realised they were more than dreams. They were memories.

Eleven year old Sam was staring at his new highschool from where he had parked his Mopedder. Lush green gardens seperated a ten foot tall fence from the old, low buildings beyond. They were painted blue, like his jacket, jumper and shirt; possibly the most ridiculous uniform ever. It was only the first day, and Sam knew nobody here. All his friends from Primary school had gone to Hawthorn Secondary, but here he was at an old, unheard of academy only a Mopedder ride from his new house. He walked gravely down the stone pathway that led to the old, rusty, iron gate, head down and shoulders hunched, as if the backpack that sat on his shoulders carried the burdens of the world.

He was sad, miserable, and lonely above all else. As Sam passed the gates, he gave the huge throng of older students a wide berth and instead walked over to a newly fitted U-bench. He checked his watch; it was fifteen minutes to the bell, when he would have to miss first period to meet his form teacher and class. A sickening feeling suddenly implanted itself into his gut. It was oddly familiar, a gnawing sensation that brought a hint of vertigo. His vision felt...different. It was like he was looking in two different directions, as if he were a chameleon. But nothing was blurry. No, he felt more like his vision was enhanced.

Ignoring the feeling, Sam searched around for someone, anyone to talk to, because he knew that he wouldn't last five minutes here without someone to watch his back. Suddenly, the world seemed different. If he didn't really pay much attention to what he was seeing, he wouldn't have noticed. But Sam always noticed. Dotted in the previously uniform crowd of Year Nines were a few....strangers. They looked both the same age and of the same characteristics. One boy, who before had his school shirt collar upturned and his baggy trousers low, was now wearing drainpipe jeans and a pinstripe blazer, hair slicked back and large, dark shades covering his eyes. He was nodding to another, normally dressed boy, who didn't seem to notice. But...that was impossible. It must just be my nerves, Sam thought to himself. It was true; his skin was tingling with nervousness.

He continued his search, this time paying less attention in the hope of not seeing another anomaly among the pupils in this school. Too bad, he did. In the far corner of the gardens, leaning against a lamp post was a pretty little Year Seven, her hair tied up in a loose ponytail, her skin russet, wearing normal clothes. And yet, when Sam simply blinked, suddenly she was dressed in a humungous poofy red skirt, her hair drowned by a giant white wig and her face smeared with pasty white makeup. In her hand she held a fan with exquisite silver patterning, which she wafted casually despite the chilly weather. Sam blinked again and she was back to normal, the fan gone and the uniform back. Sam shook his head. I'm imagining it. I'm imagining it.

And yet, a nagging voice at the back of his mind was urging him to snap out of it. This has happened before, it told him. Please listen, it begged. But he couldn't. He just couldn't bring himself to. He donned his backpack and felt his mind clear very slightly.

Tired, he thought to himself, I must be tired. That's why I'm seeing things.

Suddenly, as he looked away, eyes closed in a desperate attempt to get rid of the images, a dark shadow loomed over him. He could tell somebody was there, and he braced himself for the worst. Turning around, Sam opened his eyes and squinted up at the figure.

And then the dream ended.