Back in the dark ages of 2002, again first semester at UH, I witnessed a supernatural event before my very eyes.
To give the proper context, I must mention my fascination of the walking dead. I've read The Complete Zombie Survival Handbook and World War Z. If a movie has zombies, I'm obliged to watch it. If a game has zombies, I'm inclined to give it a shot. I used to have conversations with my wife prior to our marriage of why I wanted to do a particularly goofy thing. She'd ask why I would ever think of that. I'd respond, "But, honey, what if the dead rise?" She was never satisfied with this answer but let it go. I do think it's necessary to be prepared if the dead rise. I'm less sure that it will occur (in my lifetime).
Brandon and I were in Intro to Psychology in 2002. When finals came rolling round the bend, he and I needed to study. We picked a time to study and we had a plan: grab some dinner at the dorm cafeteria and then study. He had told me to stop by his dorm at the appointed time and make sure he's up. He was in the Navy Reserve Officer Training Corps over at Rice and he was often tired after NROTC obligations. So, 7:00p, I showed up at his dorm. I knocked and got no answer. I tried the door knob and it was unlocked so I let myself in. And there was Brandon asleep on his bed. His roommate wasn't there, but he often wasn't anyway. I started kicking his bed and shouting his name, telling him to get up. He looked up at me and said, "Yeah, it'll be another 15 minutes." I waited 15 minutes as he slept and kicked his bed again. "Yeah, it'll be another 15 minutes." I waited. I started kicking again, but this time I was kicking him. Gently, at first. Finally, he said, "Yeah, it'll be another 15 minutes." And again he slept.
Around this point, I picked up a book and started reading. It was The Republic and I read it aloud, taking breaks at 15 minutes to kick and shout at Brandon and he'd say, "Yeah, it'll be another 15 minutes."
Eventually, around 11:30p, I was reading aloud still and Brandon shot up, looked at the time and said, "Why didn't you wake me up!?" "WHAT!? I DID!" "I said, 'Yeah, it'll be another 15 minutes.'" "THAT WAS ALMOST 4 hours ago!" "... oh."
We hurriedly ran down to catch last call for food at the cafeteria and then finally started on Psych around midnight.
Perhaps I should have ... kicked harder?
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Only two things would likely have happened. I'd have continued to tell you "15 more minutes" (which I don't exactly remember) or I would have awakened enough to be pissed off, laid in wait for the next kick, caught your foot and flipped you over or in some way knocked you down. I have done that to my siblings on multiple occasions. Then again, as I recall we kicked that final's ass.
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