I Always Feel Like (Somebody’s Watching Me)

A majority of my time while I was at college was spent in the music building. I wasn’t a music major, but it was where I felt most at home and where I fit in. If I wasn’t in the hive of practice rooms, I was studying in the fishbowl. In the center of the building was a lobby on the lower floor outside the doors to the concert hall. On the second floor a balcony went around the edges of the lobby. You could look over the rail down at the various students milling around much like watching fish swim about an oversized aquarium.

During moments of roommate strife I found myself seeking the refuge music offered me. Friends discovered that calling was futile and to just seek me in the music building. More often than naught they would discover me asleep amongst my books upon the padded benches of the fishbowl. After a time they were no longer content with simply tapping my shoulder to awaken me from my dreams.

Paul (yes my Paul) and a couple other guys would drip water on me from the above balcony to see how long it took before I awoke. I think I tried to smack that annoying little bug on my face a few times before I realized . . .

I had keys dropped on me, knees tickled, and books slammed on the floor close to my head. Startling me awake as my tormentors dissolved into laughter taking me with them.

Upon this discovery, that I would awake with great flair, one friend, Mike, decided to get a bit more creative. He bought a glass bottle of juice from the upstairs vending machine and planted the bottom of it firmly on my cheek. Chuckling as I awoke with a gasp. Dang that was cold!

A week or so later, just as my paranoia was subsiding, I was once again studying by osmosis. My dreams are vague and scattered, and I seldom have any memory of them unless they are unusually vivid. I was in such a state when floating through my conciousness came a very deep menacing voice,

“Someone is watching you . . .”

My eyes flew upon in terror and there suspended barely inches from my face was another face. The intake of air whistled audibly into my lungs as my heart exploded in my chest. Before I could even register what was happening the face moved and burst into laughter.
“You should have seen your face!” he hooted merrily.

I wonder how long the bruise on his shoulder lasted . . . heh!

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10 Comments

Filed under Goofs, Humor, Memory, Music, Youth

10 responses to “I Always Feel Like (Somebody’s Watching Me)

  1. Funny story! I was paranoid of having friends as loving as yours and tried not to sleep in the fishbowl — now I’m really glad!

  2. Instead of “Sweet Dreams are Made of This” you should say, “I Always Feel Like (Somebody’s Watching Me).”

    By the way, was it the Annie Lennox version, or the Marilyn Manson version? (heehee)

  3. heh, that would have been funny, maybe I’ll go change it, heh. 🙂

  4. Man that would have freaked me out! I am glad that (like proud mum) I never slept in the fishbowl… now my practice room was another story 🙂

  5. Hahaha, you did change it! (I thought it was a new post, at first.)

  6. I couldn’t resist, it was an awesome suggestion, thanks! 🙂

  7. yeah, a human face just inches away from your own when you aren’t expecting is grounds for brutal beatings as far as i’m concerned. heh.

  8. Heh. I DID sleep in the Fishbowl.. and my practice room… and sometimes just on the floor of a hallway. Luckily, my friends were much more kind to me than yours (funnily enough… Paul never pulled anything like that with me. I could see him doing that, though! Must be cuz you’re more special to him, right? hee hee).

    I actually miss those benches in the Snow building. When they changed and got new ones, I was so bitter because they were harder and shorter and not nearly as comfy. Bah humbug.

  9. I never actually fell asleep in the fishbowl. But I would lay down and close my eyes. People tried to scare me awake but because I wasn’t ever asleep…

    I never tried to wake anyone. I would just take pictures of them asleep. 🙂

  10. Pingback: Waking Up Hubby « My Adventures and Antics

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