Finals Week Hallucinations


Finals week is a time where cortisol levels and submissions to the “Oberlin Places I’ve Cried” Facebook page reach an all time high. A time in which womb chairs and horizontal surfaces become prime napping real estate. Yet we still nod to our fellow students on the sidewalk, unified by our matching eyebags and collective delirium. Enclosed, dear reader, is a log of my finals week hallucinations while on my daily regimen of coffee, Zoloft, and 3.5 hours of sleep.


Day 1:

I awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of rummaging. I flicked on the light and was astonished to find Phalangelina Jolie (pictured below) rooting through my desk.

        “What are you doing?” I asked.

        “Looking for my ring,” she replied, inspecting a package of fruit snacks.

        “Why? You’re not married to Brad anymore…” I protested. She threw me a chilling glare and I recoiled into the corner of my bed.

        “Ah, here it is!” she sighed. She placed a reusable metal straw onto one absurdly long finger and skittered off.

Day 2:

While perusing the selection of Decafé drinks I discovered the only La Croix flavor offered was “subtle fruit.” Out of curiosity, I opened a can and turned it upside down. All that came out was a gentle breeze.  

Day 3:

An Uber driver in a blue Honda Civic followed me around all day. She would honk her horn and yell “UBER FOR GRACE” every time I made a joke that didn’t land. I thought I had escaped her while studying with my friend in the Science Center atrium. At one point, I made a joke about how diva cups are just shot glasses for Bloody Marys. No laughter followed. My friend grimaced without looking up from her work. Five seconds later, Uber lady drove through the adjacent glass wall while shrieking, “YOUR RIDE IS HERE”.

Day 4:

The weather app said there was a 2% chance of precipitation today. I gazed out my window at cartons of reduced-fat milk falling from the sky.

Day 5:

I walked outside to find a rally of male stand up comedians protesting for more personality traits. They all held picket signs with the same two phrases:

“I want originality”

“I want self-awareness”

A couple guys left in a huff, having thought the rally was a Comedy Central audition.

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