This was a dream I had. Not original, but cinematic just the same?


DOT
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I woke up in a daze, not knowing who or where I was. I vividly recall that I'm a living, breathing sentient being, but other than my name and my ability to communicate in the English language, I know nothing else.

Think dammit, think. I pound my palm against my forehead. There has to be a reason why I'm sitting at the edge of this bed, in this room, surrounded by things that are familiar to me, but who they belong to, and why I'm here, I know not.

No matter. I'll just get up and dress for work.

Flash forward, as most dreams work this way.

I'm at work now, talking to people. There's a party sometime this evening, a birthday party I believe. Directions are handed out on paper, it is a dance club. We are told to show by 10:30pm. Somehow I know this is where I must go. I ask several people to carpool. We end up driving to someone's house nearby, and then dogpile into a car for a short jaunt to our destination.

Flash forward

The club is pretty hype, with music blaring loudly through skyscraper like speakers. It is a rhythmic beat of heavy bass and random noises; a typical "filler" song between club anthems. There are strobe lights everywhere, and the whole rooms is covered in an eerie blue light, with spots of red highlighting the bars. However, at this early hour, it is almost devoid of people. I spot my group of friends, which for some reason, I still don't know their names.

I walk over and re-acquaint myself with one of the people in the group. We talk for a bit, then I headed outside.

When I re-enter the establishment, I spot her. I cannot tell you now what her nationality nor her name is. But in my mind, "Natalie" floats above the ambient music and lights. I know her, like I would a friendly neighbour down the streets, but we are not friends. Friend of a buddy, who knows a pal type thing. She is sourrounded by a small group of people, chillin', drinking an alocoholic beverage which I do not recognize. No matter I guess. She has a pretty smile.

*BOOM*. Like a submarine imploding on itself in too-deep water, my mind is hit with a stream of images. Violent, deadly. Blood, everywhere. I do not catch these images like photograph stills in my mind. As close as I can describe it, you must imagine ghastly pictures all in one big pile, translucent in quality. So that you can see every photo, and yet, be able to see the graphic images below too. Very odd, extremely disturbing. But now this is what I know.

A jealous boyfriend will kill her in a bathroom. He uses nothing but a toilet plunger handle and insane rage. People have died by the hands of lesser beings, but this person, who I do not have a face to associate with the feeling, is crazy. He will catch her alone in the washroom, and confront her. Then she will die.

This is maddening, I do not know when, or exactly which washroom. All I know is that this will happen, and somehow, I'm sure she is the one I am to protect. Wait a minute. Protect?! I'm no Jet Li or Jackie Chan. Heck I'm closer to Bruised Knee than I ever will be to Bruce Lee. I can't even keep a cactus from dehydrating for Pete's sake. I am not here to save anyone.

And yet, I am. As sure as i know my eyes are brown when I look into the mirror, I know she's the one I am here for. I must become friends with her friends, get to know her, and stop this murder from happening. But why? Why should I risk my precious life to save her from this grisly fate?

Maybe I'm psychic. Oh gawd, that sounds so hocus-pocus. Dude, you've seen one too many movies.

Not psychic, no worse. I'm from the future. WHAT?! I scream inwardly. Come on, you have got to be kidding me. This isn't just crazy, this is stupid. From the future? Are you listening to yourself? Guy, this isn't Minority Report.

But as soon as I dismiss that thought, I realize it was true. I am from the future, sent back to prevent this girl from being bludgeoned to death by her ex-boyfriend. I still don't know why, but slowly my reasons for being here is clear. I am to stop him.

I begin to panic. If I'm sent back through time to save her, like in the movie Terminator, then I should prepare myself. Do I need to buy a gun? Do I need be around her all the time? Then I remember something else. I can't actively participate in keeping her safe. What should I do?

In stupidity, I purposely walk over, say hi, and grab her arm, half-dragging, half-steering her along. She is amused at first, thinking some guy was just trying to get her to dance or have a drink, but when she realizes I wasn't stopping at any of the bars or that we've stepped off the dance floor, she begins to protest. "What are you doing? Let go!"

I finally bring her to the coat check room, with her protesting throughout. I know the lady sitting behind there is also the manager/owner. "Hi. You have to call the cops. This girl is in danger. Someone is trying to kill her."

Both the owner and Natalie look at me, disbelieve in their eyes. There's a moment of awkward silence, then:

"You're a freaking freak!" exclaims Natalie. "I'm out of here."

She yanks her arm out of my grip, and briskly walks away. I let her go, realizing the rashness of my actions. Stupid. Utterly moronic. Nice one, kiddo. You might as well tell her you're a time traveller too.

The owner lady looks up, and decides I'm much too coo-coo to be allowed to stay, and promptly throws me out with two burly bouncers "escorting" me. If you can call lifting me up by each arm and trousers escorting.

I sneak back into the club through a window, and walk straight to the girls' washroom. Thinking that since the club was still relatively desolate, the washrooms should be empty. Bingo. I look around and see only a couple of stalls, all seemingly empty. Lo and behold, in one of the corners stood a plunger. Wooden stick handle, red plastic suction cup. It's what you'd see if Wile E. Coyote used it as an arrow to try and snag the Road Runner.

First thought that came through was this: If I hid the plunger, then he can't use it to beat her. Then I've avoided this whole mess, and I can maybe she'd be safe.

So I take the plunger and break it in two, hiding the pieces behind the porcelain bowls. It was the only sane thing to do. How would it look if I tried dancing with a plunger up my sleeves? Yeah, pretty dumb, I think so too.

Flash forward

Nick stands in front of me, a little shorter than I. He's mad, real mad. I must have pissed him off. I don't know what I did, except that I'm the target of his anger.

"Listen, you eff-ing guy. I heard you were with Natalie at the club the other night. Leave my girl alone."

"Your girl?" I asked incredulously. "Nick, get a clue, she hasn't been your girl for a long time now. Why don't you let her be.

"Besides", I added. "I wasn't with her. It was a group thing."

"I'll kick your ass if I see you with her next time" warns Nick.

He gets into his friend's car, and they both peel out of the parking lot.

Flash forward

"Why won't you listen! You have to call the cops now, she's going to die! He's going to kill her in your bathroom in 5 minutes with the toilet plunger. Just call the cops!"

I'm standing inside a convenience store, screaming at the clerk behind the counter. He's looking at me rather calmly. Running a 24 hour tuck shop for more than a year now, he's seen all sorts of weirdos, including people like me. While my appearance isn't dishevel like a maniac, I sure am acting like one. I know that in 5 minutes, she will be dead, yet no one I know will listen to my seemingly insane story, and I am not allowed to actively intervene. This is fustrating. Why won't anyone believe me??

"I cam from the year 2015. In two years time from now, an accidental discoverery will give scientists a clue as to how they can manipulate time and space. In 15 years from then, they will be able to send people back in time safely. I came back to save this girl from being killed. I don't know anything else. Please just call the cops. Have them wait here if you want. Have them arrest me, heck if I care. Just pick up the phone and call. Please!!"

The man behind the counter refuses. He just doesn't believe me, and he's starting to get agitated. I look at my watch, five minutes and twentry-four seconds to go. I must stop this!!

"In 30 seconds, a guy in a leather jacket will walk up to you, then ask for a pack of smokes. He will then try to pass you a fake bill. If he does, then you call?"

He looks at the door suspuciously, thinking of dialing 911 just to have them remove me from the premises. As he mulls over his options, a tall man with frizzy brown hair approaches the counter, in a biker jacket. His eyes are shifty, like he's casing the joint in case he needed to hotfoot out the nearest exit.

"Hey bub, get me a pack of Lights."

He then throws down a dirty crumpled bill, but I couldn't see the denomination. The clerk picks it up, looking at it like it. The bill was such an obvious fake that even with a totally untrained eye, you could tell it was funny money.

"Excuse me sir. I can't take this. Do you have another...."

The man bolts, knocking me over and into a rack of candy. Before anyone could do anything else, he's out the door with his stolen pack of cigs. Gone.

I stand up, looking at the clerk, who's face has turned rather pale. He slowly turns his head over. "Pal, you better not be crapping me. How did you know?"

"I told you, I'm from the future, trying to stop Natalie from being killed. Now call the cops."

"That's it." accused the clerk. "Now get out of my store, before I beat you myself with a plunger!"

I walk out, time was winding down, less than 4 minute now. The only comforting fact was that Nick wasn't anywhere to be found. As I stepped outside, a car comes screeching to a halt inches from my legs. Nick steps out from the passenger side. He glares, but doesn't appear he was looking for me. Just my luck.

I look away, hoping there wouldn't be a confrontation. I look for Natalie so I can convince her to be somewhere else. I know for certain it is this store, in this public gas-station bathroom. It will be here that she meets her fate if I fail. I do not want her to die.

I walk back into the store, while the clerk is distracted. I try to hide myself behind the magazine rack, reading a tabloid. Nick's in there browsing through the isle, no doubt trying to shoplift. He is at the moment ignoring me. All is good. I'm still desperately trying hard to think of a way to stop the murder from happening.

Just like magic, and on cue, she appears at the doorway. She looks in, hessitates, and spots me. I give a friendly little wave and a smile, but she does not smile back. Instead she turns around and quickly walks away. I throw down the mag and jog out, calling her name.

"Natalie," I said, "Slow down for a sec, I want to talk to you."

She's standing by her car, a red little sporty hatchback. The trunk lid is open, she's scrounging around for a pair of shoes. She turns to me, annoyance in her eyes. "Hey, creep, stay away from me. I'm not in the mood to open up a can of whoop-ass on you, but if you keep standing by my car, I will."

I step back, arms out and palms up, the unviersal sign of: I ain't got jack to hide. "Please Natalie, just one minute of your time, I have something I want to talk to you about."

I glance at my watch. Time's a ticking. When did they start shortening one second??

"No. I don't want to hear anymore of your 'I'm from the future' crud. Get lost or...."

"You're in danger." cutting her off. "Your life's in danger. Get in your car and drive away. That's all I ask."

"The only danger I'm in is from you."

She shuts her trunk and goes into the gas station convenience store. I do not immediately follow, but walk back in anyway. This is a bad situation gone suddenly worse. Maybe I'm not from the future, maybe I'm in a bad dream I cannot wake from. Gawd, this can't be real. But my watch shows 58 seconds and we're in a place with a washroom and a plunger, both Nick and Natalie are in the same room. To top it off, she's going to the washroom, I just know it. I can't believe how nuts I've become, and yet, I'm doing the right thing.

Natalie approaches the counter and asks the clerk for the washroom key.

Nick spots Natalie, and calls her name. She turns to look and is horrified when she realizes who the person is. She dashes towards the washroom, a small squeal escaping deep from her throat. Nick calls out again.

"I just want to talk.", almost mimicking the same plea I gave her not a minute ago.

"Leave me alone!" she says behind her, key in hand, trying to unlock the door. It opens just as he began reaching for her. She slams the door shut, but his arm keeps the door ajar. He lets out a ferocious yell of pain and rage. From the corner of my eye, I see the clerk reaching for the phone, and something underneath the counter.

Natalie opened the door as quickly as when she had tried to shut it, to see if she really hurt him. Yes, he was a jerk, but she didn't want to hurt him. She caught herself, still scared of him, and decided running was the best discourse. She dashed past him, while he was still doubling over nursing his bruised forearm. I yelled as well, knowing time was running out, trying to intercept her and carry her to safety.

....You cannot actively intervene.....

Too late, as i realized my mistake. Then in a time slowing Matrix-esque moment, my memories come freight-train rushing back.

"One of the setbacks of time travel is temporary amnesia. You will not immediately remember who, how, or why you are there. But your body and your mind will function normally otherwise. As the days progress, the holes in your memory will fill slowly and randomly. The technology is not precise enough to place you in the exact date you'll arrive before the event, but we're accurate within a week. Your mind/body will take over the 2002 body of yourself. But don't worry, your former self doesn't get harmed. It's hard to explain where the 2002 "you" goes when we send you back. We don't understand 100% ourselves. But the timeline somehow knows the future is crossed with the past, and creates a temporary split, a branch of itself that shouldn't have happened. This is where the 2002 "you" will reside. Once your 2015 self returns to the present, the timeline will then create a third alternate reality, deleting the original and the temporary one, using the two to make this third. This protects the people that existed then. It is this third wihch becomes the new "history". When you snap back to the present, your 2002 self won't know any different, and is safe, because it's been "alive" in the temporary alternate thread. It is for this reason we don't send people back without good reason. We don't know what would happen if the timeline is forced to constantly create new realities.

"Another drawback is that we can only send people back as far as they were alive. It means we can't place you back to the 1930's, because you weren't born yet.

"Remember, time travel aren't something we understand fully yet, except we know that people from the future cannot be the ones to actually stop an event from happening. They can influence the situation through manipulation of others surrounding them, but no more. Don't try to take the situation in your own hands."

Too late. Oh too late. The clock had reached zero, and I was carrying her over my shoulders, trying to wisk her away from Nick, who now had the plunger in his hands.

I almost make it out the store, when I hear a loud pop. It was a gun. It was a bloody gun. Please, shoot Nick and save Natalie.

I'm on the floor now, there's a deep burn in the small of my back. I can feel wetness seeping through my clothes, and slicking the floor with blood. My blood. From this angle, I can see Natalie sitting beside me, staring at the pool of blood that's quickly coagulating around me and her legs. She stands up, and runs out screaming.

Nick is standing there, shocked too as he sees me on the floor, bleeding to death. I roll my eyes towards him. His shock turns to a sickening evil smirk. He begins to beat me with the plunger handle, one blow knocks me out, and the next wakes me back up to a semi-conscious state. I know I'm dying, and the world around begins to fade into blackness. My last thought was "Why did I need to save her?"

....BACK
posted by losir at 2:57 PM