The Feeling

I am at my childhood home. Earlier, there was a strange planning session or class with many familiar faces. People from high school, many whom I hated. I can't necessarily recall if they had aged well, or aged at all. Probably, it feels like, they hadn't. We were all sitting in a crowded room, a classroom. The desks were in a circle. When the bell rang (or the equivalent––I can't actually recall hearing a bell ring), everyone tried to grab their backpack and coats in a mad scramble. I purposely pushed off to a corner and let the swarm do its thing, not wanting to get caught in that craziness.

And now I am at this house, my childhood home. I myself do not feel like a teenager. I am wondering aimlessly downstairs. I feel hungry and afraid and nervous. For some reason I do not have any pants on. I am looking for my pants. I know that my girlfriend and my dog are asleep upstairs, possibly in my old room.

I want to find my pants and then go out the front door. I have this terrible feeling that I should just run away and leave everything and everyone behind. I am scared that going outside will wake up my dog. I don't think I will ever find my pants.