The claws of fear reach up my back; it was time to meet our RM. Stumbling forward with Kat trailing behind, we meet three other students conversing quietly with the same man who delivered the paper. A good two inches taller than I am, the twins stand on either side of me. I look up to one of the twin boys, his eyes flash down to mine before giving me a sly smil¬¬¬e. I don’t return it. “You are to go up this set of stairs” —the man gesticulates toward an old staircase that I hadn't noticed before—“take a left down the second corridor you come to. Your Roommate Manager will meet you there.” His voice has a hard edge to it. The other girl, Kesarae, hair knotted and choppy falling gracelessly into her amber brown eyes, clothes so torn like she's been fighting with a rogue nail, shies away from him. Inwardly I feel what she’s thinking. This man is capable of killing us with his bare hands, the only thing really stopping him being the fact that his orders were to direct, not strangle, us. Taking a second to comprehend that we have been dismissed, I turn to follow the twins and the girls up the stairs. In my hurry to catch up with the rest of the group, I trip on the last step and fly forward. Throwing my hands out in front of me does little to stop my fall. My body crashes into my wrists, pain seers up through my arms, causing them to collapse under me, my head bashing against the floor. Head throbbing with the ache of the fall, I hear the others sharp intake of breath, waiting my reaction with bated breath. Feeling like a complete klutz, I turn over on my back and start laughing, the tension releasing in me as well as the others who burst into laughter. Rising up slowly, I rub my left wrist as I shake my head at my own pain. “Wha... ... middle of paper ... ... fall back into my enclosed space, against the many pillows. Thoughts scattered, pulse racing, the pillow I hold close to my chest provides warmth against my skin. It isn’t going to be easy, falling into dreamland, but I would do my best to try. Even if that meant wiping the slate of my mind clean, listening for the sound of my heartbeat, and lulling myself off into a well-earned sleep. Sinking into the mattress, I flip over to my stomach, grabbing at the pillows and yanking them from my head so my body lies even. My mind is flooded with the events of the morning, the sadden expressions of my family on the threshold of our house as they waved goodbye to the youngest. The fear I had felt then has long since been replaced, not by joy, but by overwhelming exhaustion. Sleep had so long deprived me, but not today. Today I would drift away, without a care in the world.
and soon I was sleeping. I spent a great deal of time asleep over the
What would it be like if someone were to fall asleep, and wake up in a completely different place? This is what happens in Nightmare Academy. The book has a great ability to grab attention and make someone second guess their thoughts on any character, as well as make the impossible seem possible. In this report, there will be an explanation of how the book is able to grab someone's attention, as well as how the book would make a person second guess the characters, and finally, how the book is fictional yet lifelike, or in other words impossible yet possible. But first, there will be a basic summary of the book.
I had gone. . . to the smoke of cafes and nights when the room whirled and you needed to look at the wall, nights in bed, drunk, when you knew that that was all there was, and the strange excitement of waking and not knowing who it was with you, and the world all unreal in the dark and so exciting that you must resume again unknowing and not caring in the night, sure that this was all and all and all and not caring (13).
That night I couldn't go to sleep.Every inch of me was wide awake and full of excitement.Holding onto every sign of morning I drifted off.Before I knew I was
He turned his head toward me and peered at me through swollen eyes. “I begged her not to go with him,” he said quietly. “Do you hear me, I begged her!”
As I walked into the family room, I could feel the gentle heat of the crackling fire begin to sooth my frostbitten cheeks. I plopped myself down on the sofa. The soft cushions felt like heaven to my muscles, sore from building snowmen, riding sleds, and throwing snowballs from behind the impenetrable fort.
and tried to return to sleep. Soon after I came to the realization that sleep was a hopeless
I could feel my heart jump as the chair hit the ground with a heavy thud. I choked, my lungs and neck ...
Have you ever secretly laughed at someone when they tripped over themselves? Don’t worry, everyone did. When you see someone falls over, you receive schadenfreude that stems from being thankful that it wasn’t yourself who has been put in the same situation. You feel you’re better than the person. As the famous meme demonstrated, “We are best friends. Always remember that when you fall, I’ll pick you up after I finish laughing.”
Then all of a sudden, he began to choke, and blood dribbled from his mouth and got on my jacket. "What the hell?!" I yelled. I grabbed his shoulders and stared, astonished, at his face, as he silently pleaded for help. I couldn't handle looking at him anymore and I was frozen in shock, so I let him fall to the ground.
it. After that, I find a quiet spot to sit and drink my coffee, thinking of nothing but the warmth of
a chilly little breeze bites at my cheeks. I take a deep breath and the sweet
In 2004–2005, the Penn Humanities Forum will focus on the topic of “Sleep and Dreams.” Proposals are invited from researchers in all humanistic fields concerned with representations of sleep, metaphors used to describe sleep, and sleep as a metaphor in itself. In addition, we solicit applications from those who study dreams, visions, and nightmares in art or in life, and the approaches taken to their interpretation.
I scarcely snoozed at all, the day before; incidentally, I felt insecure regarding the fact of what the unfamiliar tomorrow may bring and that was rather unnerving. After awakening from a practically restless slumber, I had a hefty breakfast expecting that by the conclusion of the day, all I wanted to do is go back home and sleep. Finally, after it was over, my dad gladly drove me to school; there, stood the place where I would spend my next four years of my life.
My bed has meaning to me not only because it 's my bed but because of the person who gave it to me. My grandma, someone who raised me. Every time I look at my bed or go to sleep, I remember all the days she sang to me, and told me stories about her life in Africa. The mattress isn 't my grandmothers don 't get me wrong, but the backboard and frame is. This bed makes me think about my family. My grandma’s Alzheimer 's was getting bad and my family came to the decision that it was time for her to move away and go to a nursing home. I feel their decision hurt me the most. My grandma was my diary and she wasn 't gonna be here anymore. Even though she forgets my name and forgets me sometimes I 'll never forget her and this bed is the constant reminder.