Snooze: A Short Random Work of Almost Non-Fiction

I’m flying. Swooping low over a field, I flap my arms, trying to stay up. There is a strange sense of tension, and I am waving franticly, determined to keep flying. I don’t know why. Then I hear something. At first it is just noise, then I slowly recognize my alarm clock. It is pulling me slowly out of unconsciousness. The sky, field, and my erratic movements slowly fade, and I feel my sheets and pillow instead of rushing air beneath me.
Groaning softly, I roll over. Five a.m. I close my eyes, then squint at my alarm clock again, hoping it’s only four so I can go back to sleep. Five o’ one.
I scoot to the edge of my bed and stretch my arm out in to the cold air, reaching towards my alarm clock. My fingers brush against the top and I feel for the snooze button. It’s the biggest so I find it quickly. I quickly hit it, and the singer on the radio is cut short mid-word. Ahhh, quiet at last.
I fight against the drowsiness that threatens to envelope me once more. I win, but only half way. In my half conscious state I contemplate my dream. My flying dreams are usually happy. I fly with ease, soaring through clouds in bright sunshine. Not this one, and then I realize why. I had been flying away. I was escaping Something.
My thoughts turn to other things. A few girls in my Mia Maids group had not been attending meetings. I make a note to self to call my class president. I think of church on Sunday, we had been early. I laugh quietly. It was the first time in almost a month.
I try to remember the speakers. I can’t, but I do remember the musical number. I wince, wishing I hadn’t thought of that. The ward chorister had asked me to play a solo in church in less than two weeks. A dull ache twists in my chest, and I recognize it. It is Fear.
My radio turns on again. I look at it through bleary eyes still heavy with sleep. Five ten. I cringe as the singer tries and fails to hit a high note. Hitting snooze again, I make another note to self: change the radio station today.
The Fear is still twisting my insides. I breathe deep and think, “Faith not Fear, Faith not Fear,” over and over again. It reminds me of my seminary teacher last year. I remember my class with him. I remember Andrew, then decide not to. I was nervous my first day in class because I didn’t know a single person. He talked to me and flirted shamelessly, making me laugh and feel better. It felt good to have a friend in seminary. But it only lasted a week; he started ignoring me and moved on to some other girl. I sigh, then shrug. His loss.
My alarm clock goes off yet again. Five nineteen. An old Beach Boys song is playing. I enjoy its familiarity for a minute, then turn it off so it doesn’t wake Hannah up. I groan and roll over, pulling back my blankets. As the cold air hits my bare feet I almost give in and crawl back in. But I grit my teeth, grab my fleece blanket, and prepare to take on the world.