Memory was the funniest thing. First of all, what had happened to his Bonzai? He had watered the tree this morning before the clock had struck midday - which he knew was unusual, given how late he stayed up. Second, he distinctly remembered the plastic watering can being a bright shade of green. Where had it gone? Was it lost? Was a loser in the room next door thieving his belongings?
Oh well, they weren't all losers. He should have known better than to look out the window, though - because as far as his vision would allow there wasn't a tree. There wasn't leaves or branches as far as he could see. Everything required effort. Like investigating. That moment was one he would remember where there had been electricity in the air, and how people he passed when exiting the dorm asked him if he was seeing things when he told them there wasn't a tree in sight - or two or three.
He wasn't sure what he was seeing, either.
The hill seemed to get the further away from him the more he walked - and wasn't this land flat anyway? After a quick walk when he felt the earth shift from under him he landed front and stomach, and expelled air, with his face crushed against a giant root, next to two pairs of feet. Around and overhead were whispering voices.
"Fuckin 'ell."
There was one conclusion: he was awake, he was dreaming, and he was drunk.