1.5

I wake up all of a sudden. It is 2009, and Stanley Kubrick's 1968 film 2001 is playing on Inflight Television on the back of the seat in front of me. I pause the film at a frame where people in the movie watch films on the backs of the seats in front of them as they travel through outer space. The main character seems to have fallen asleep. For me, this is all transpiring in a jet somewhere over the International Date Line, where today is furtively changing into the future while passengers in the film also drift in and out of consciousness. The shift back to a depiction of the future in a movie made before I was born, which accurately predicts my current state is creating a dizzying, floating sensation, which is then promptly echoed in front of me in the film when a pen weightlessly glides by in front of the camera. I decided to watch the film for a bit in slow motion and reverse, but the complex mirroring and shifting in time gave me a surprising case of the giggles. I write a brief note in my journal and place my orange pen in my shirt's left pocket, hoping it will float out in front of my face once I fall asleep.