Strange Ceiling

I don't know how long this has been happening. On occasional mornings, generally when I wake naturally, I have a moment. This occurs as I slowly regain my consciousness, before I have made my first move of the morning.

During this moment I am completely unaware of not only where, but when I am. So before I open my eyes I am given to slowly reconstruct my reality, if you will. It proves difficult to describe.

I begin by realizing I don't know my current location in time-space. Before I can begin to deduce it I must clear a few cobwebs of "Do I need to study? Am I late for work?". Essentially every 'what am I sleeping through?' moment of my entire life.

Generally those questions are put on the back-burner, unsolved, and I ask myself more deductive questions. "Am I next to Alice? Babs? No one? Are my feet on a wall?

Perhaps some aural hinting: Is my mom making breakfast? Do I hear the traffic of china town? Or my sister snoring?

I refuse to open my eyes or move until the wave-form as collapsed. As you might imagine I eventually settle on Seattle, 2008 and wake up.

I thought it would be pretty damn cool, though, if I were able to do away with deductive reasoning and settle on a different time-place. Then when I wake up the shock of reality would be a neat rush. Imagine being a broke ass college student on the brink of a final only to wake with a fat paycheck, nice place and good job. And a Dog.

Taking it further: what if I could get my Kilgore Trout on and spend a day or two in college, or in high school?