4. So I Start Off In Jail

So I start off in jail.
I’m sentenced to 4 years in prison.
The prison is extremely atypical, however. In fact, it’s SO atypical that as I sit here fully conscious, I am not believing how I’d known it was a prison. Its space is open and lavish, almost like the space of a mall. It’s filled with fluorescent light, red and orange colors, and huge marble pillars. The strangest thing about this space, though, is the absence of cells. There are no cells in this prison.
As a matter of fact, I believe I am held prisoner in the Charles B. Wang center prison.
I am with school friends in this prison, and all we do is roam, read books, stare. I don’t remember what we were staring at.
Anyway, I start thinking of a scheme to escape. I remember there is an exit in this Charles B. Wang prison that leads out to a parking lot. I’m conscious of the fact that there are prison guards dotted along the rooftop, but somehow I make it.

Next scene.
I’m in the backyard of my house, doing something quite active, but I don’t remember exactly what. Guards are flooding into the backyard, and I’m recaptured.
God, I totally forgot to mention why I’m in prison!
I’m sentenced to prison because we’re at war in Iraq; America needs women as well as men for the war. So, a group of us female students of Stony Brook University are imprisoned in a penitentiary smack mirroring the Wang Center because America needs women in Iraq. That’s the reason. Nothing else in between. If you think about it, it’s one motherfucking hell of a nonsense reason. It doesn’t add up. They need us for war, so they pen us up in jail? So I’m pissed. That’s why I escaped.
Oh, a key point!
I see Stephanie Min.
Again.
For the 14 millionth time.
She’s angry with me. She’s upset.
I’m not sure why she’s mad at me, but I believe it’s because I’m in jail.
A crucial reason, if not a better reason than the last, to escape. To be free, so I could finally settle our squabble.
But then I’m back.
I’m back in jail, and a friend saunters towards to me. She asks me what I’m going to do now. I say I’m not too sure, I just know I’m sentenced to another 4 years. That’s a total of 8 years in this mall-center marble-pillared hellhole. I think I’m crying.

Suddenly, the single first-person p.o.v. narrative turns into one single first-person p.o.v. plus several third-person p.o.v.s. Not only is MY story being narrated, but also there are several other stories being told.
We’re all escaping again.
As I’m typing this, my memory is slipping. I even forget which people they were. I can’t exactly remember why or how we’re escaping again, but it’s happening. The walls are crumbling, people are zipping left, zooming right, zapping down.

Scene change.
I see the story of a young man. Why he is imprisoned with hundreds of girls, I don’t know. Anyway, he’s escaping. All I remember is a countryside scenery, a long road, and a minivan. He’s driving it. I’m about 30 yards away.
I’m racking my brain for the rest. It’s about that time when there’s almost nothing left of it. It’s rapidly become a wispy remnant of the craziest time of your life.

Next scene.
I’m about depleted of these memories. All I remember now is a library scene. It’s the climax, and we’re all gathered around a lady? A man? I have the confused look on my face. There is a twist in the plot, I know. I’m utterly shocked at the conclusion. Someone rips his/her face off to reveal another one, another sex, another being. Then the crushing of a skull. With that, all of a sudden the books on the shelves turn blue, though not all of them. There’s a man, and he’s questioning whether the curse has really been lifted. Another man answers, “Yes,” and takes a non-blue book off the shelf, peels its jacket off, and reveals the inner blue flap. So, in fact, all the books HAVE turned blue, and it’s concluded the curse is really lifted. We’re all aghast.
Of course, my demolished memory doesn’t allow me to remember what the curse was, or why we were senselessly amazed at the blue books. Blue books… Yea. Nothing. No reason, yet again.

I slowly spiral back to my body that’s encased in my bed. I’m back home. I wake up and waltz out of my room and into my sister’s. I always do this after a perplexing dream. I kneel over to her bed, and say, “I just had this crazy dream.” That’s always, ALWAYS my opening line. It’s bland, I know. Ironic, in fact. A bland opening line to the most stunning times of my life. Anyway…
I see my sister’s got a TV in her room. I’m amazed at the fact that my mom bought her a tv. It’s got a slightly teal-ish hue. Okay, it’s blue. It’s widescreen, but the size of it is miniature. Interesting…I’ve always cringed at my sister’s obsession for miniature-sized objects… The screen has great quality. The image is sharp. Interestingly enough, the color quality is deficient…

beep.
beep.
beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
BEEP.
BEEP.
BEEP.
BEEP.
BEEP.

Uggh….

Click.

And I’m back.