Next to the common room there was a staircase that led down. It was small but easy to walk on. My exploration took me past the kitchens - all clean but with a colorful mix of dishes thrown together, bathrooms for men, women and unisex, into the games room, which was rather dark in contrast to the few common rooms, but was equipped with a bar, a table tennis table, several couches and beanbags and a TV. What I noticed immediately was that the dorm as a whole had a very personal touch. It was not sterile and empty, but instead there were photos of people on most of the walls, sayings that were supposed to be motivating or funny, pictures of nature, green plants in pots in almost every room, and posters were hung up. It was really nice and I liked it. It had a very personal and cozy feel. My last stop was the roof terrace. I still had about an hour and that should be enough. In fact, there was even a small elevator, which I took with a slightly guilty conscience. But the roof terrace was on the fourth floor and I didn't really want to rush up there. When the door pinged open, I ran to the door, opened it and then stood there, surprised and overwhelmed. It was so beautiful. A small stone staircase led to the raised terrace, on which several tables, chairs and benches were scattered together. Here too there was even a couch, but it was carefully covered with a blanket and protected from dirt. But what overwhelmed me were the sheer number of plants that were on the floor, hanging from the walls or dangling from wooden lattices that were set up like a canopy over the entire terrace. Here too, the corners were bordered by a wall about knee-high with a railing on top. At the far left end there was a tiny house with a window in the door. It suggested that this was where the plant care utensils were kept. I walked slowly across the terrace, amazed.

The wooden frames looked like a kind of corridor, hung with plants upon plants and flowers. It was really beautiful. Although it was late summer, there were still lots of colors. I recognized some of the plants - ivy, mountain palms, several huge and other smaller Monstera plants, even a small orange tree, and lots of Pholondredon. I was really so positively surprised that someone or several people had created this place, on the roof of a residential building. This little paradise could not be seen from below. It's a shame, actually. The people down below didn't know what they were missing. I was just taking one of the leaves of an ivy plant between my fingers when a voice rang out behind me. "You know they're poisonous or something? Better not put your fingers in your mouth, otherwise you'll get a rash," she sounded amused. I turned around and there was a girl sitting on one of the armchairs, smoking. As I got closer and noticed the smell, I realized that she was smoking weed. "I don't know you yet, are you new?" she asked, looking at me. I nodded and sat down in the armchair that was at the same table as hers. “Moved in today. Do you know everyone here?” She laughed and pulled on her joint. “No, no, there are easily 150 people living here, I forget faces far too quickly haha. But you seemed like it was your first time up here. And no one who lives here hasn’t been here before.” I nodded and looked around again. “It’s really amazing, who did all this?” She shrugged her shoulders. “No idea, probably some alumni or professors. I’ve lived here for three years and I just took over. But you quickly become a plant mom here.” She looked at the plants with delight. “Do you look after them?” She nodded. “Together with a few others. It’s a very relaxed job.” She held out her fist for me to punch. “I’m Roxana, by the way.” I smiled and punched.

“Bonnie.” She continued smoking and looked into the distance. I looked at her in turn. She had very distinctive facial features and strong eyebrows. There was something about her that fascinated me, maybe her curved lips, maybe the light brown of her eyes, which she emphasized with dark eyeliner. She had a short blonde pixie cut that accentuated her distinctive face shape. Overall, she seemed like a very interesting mix, she wore a lot of make-up, had bright red fingernails and a lot of jewelry, on the other hand she wore baggy fabric pants, boots and a loose T-shirt. She noticed that I was watching her and I quickly looked away. "How are you liking it so far?" she then said, to resume the conversation. I nodded. "Very good. I mean, I've only been here since today, but I think it's cool that there's stuff hanging everywhere and everything looks a little bit messy. It's a bit like home." She grinned. "You're probably right. At my place it was always way too neat, my mother was very fussy. But a place like this has more character, I think." I wanted to continue talking to her, but when I looked at my watch I realized that I would be late for the next lecture. Had I really taken that long again? I said goodbye, ran to my room and quickly gathered my university things. Then I ran to the campus and arrived just in time.

“It's good that you're still on time, if the door is closed, it's the door,” greeted me, called Mr. Hunter, who walked into the room in front of me. I had completely forgotten that I would now have the lesson with him. Oh dear, then I would be bombarded with philosophies again and would have to pay close attention. I thought he had eyes like a hawk. Sometimes I noticed how he looked at me briefly during the courses. It wasn't creepy or anything, but there was something there that I couldn't quite interpret. But he would always quickly look away and I would always dismiss the thought of it. I spotted Cece as I often do and sat down next to her. “Well, how are you?” I gave her a quick hug and we briefly caught up on the weekend. Her eyes widened when I told her about the party with Julien and she chuckled happily a few times afterwards. Mr. Hunter had already written the topic on the whiteboard and had already started to talk about some points that we had missed. But that wasn't a bad thing, because it was simply an introduction to the topic. I was able to check that later . I turned to the front again and met Mr. Hunter's gaze. He looked at me, too intensely for it to be normal. He didn't look angry, as if he had just caught us and was angry that we had interrupted his lecture. No, there was something different. But once again I couldn't determine it. The other students are currently working on some task. So no one seemed to notice. “Why is he looking at you like that?” Cece asked quietly next to me. “Did you have a party with him?” she said with a giggle, but I didn’t smile. This look from the dark eyes gave me goosebumps and I didn't know how to place it. I looked away when I couldn't hold it anymore. Then I looked at my laptop and tried to pretend I was doing some work. I was afraid that he would come to us and swear at us. But after a while I heard and noticed him going forward again and leafing through a book. I dared to look in his direction and was relieved when I noticed that he was no longer paying attention to us. Very funny. Like so many things in the last few days.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

After the lecture, Cece and I sat outside again with lunch, Andre and even Ariana were there too. They only knew each other briefly, but got along brilliantly. It was a completely new feeling that I now lived here, would be here. Every day. The rest of the day was uneventful, after all it was already afternoon and there wasn't much left to do since it was a Monday. As I had just said goodbye to the others, with the firm plan in mind to go into my room and clear out the boxes and decorate my room to my liking with a bit of Billie Eilish in my ear, a voice came from behind me in the hallway, as I walked along it. I wanted to grab something from the kiosk that was in the entrance hall of our university building. I turned around in surprise. Mr. Hunter stood there and looked at me. It was that intense look again and it was starting to annoy me. I didn't know how to deal with it and it didn't seem right to me that he gave his students such confusing looks and empty phrases. “Yes?” I asked somewhat reservedly and stopped about two meters in front of him. “Miss Wagner, would you please follow me, I would like to speak to you briefly.” He turned around without waiting for an answer from me and walked towards the lecture hall where I had now spent several hours with him and a room full of other students. He motioned for me to sit in one of the chairs in the front row. He himself leaned casually against the desk at the front. “I really like standing,” I replied. I liked the different heights of him standing and sitting. He just nodded and then folded his hands in front of his body thoughtfully. “I would like to talk to you about my lectures. "I've noticed several times now that you're very unfocused and don't want to or can't pay attention," he looked at me again with that intense look. I just frowned. Why was he so interested in me? After all, it was my grades, not his, that were at stake. “May I ask if you are okay, do you have any problems that are keeping you from concentrating. Maybe sleep problems?” I looked into his eyes. The certainty with which he asked this overwhelmed me, as if he knew exactly what he was talking about. But that wasn't possible. I cleared my throat. "No I'm fine. I can not complain. I'm sorry I haven't paid that much attention before. I'm going to put some effort in it." I was just nodding a kind of farewell, a closure to this conversation, when he quickly said: “If you need help, please feel free to contact me. Maybe it will help to talk about it or get some tips.” I look at him slightly strangely. It was strange that he tried to trust me when we barely knew each other. He had only had me during courses a handful of times. What did he think I was going to tell him - my whole life story?

"Thank you, I'm fine. I'll pay more attention in the future." With these words I turned around and was clearly about to leave when he said: "Do you ever wonder what kind of seat you have?". I turned back to him in a flash. He looked thoughtfully at the floor, but he seemed focused, as if he knew exactly that I was there. "Excuse me?" I asked, feeling as if I didn't understand something that was obvious. He sat up calmly and looked at me again. "Do you ever wonder what reality you could live in if it wasn't yours?" I just looked even more confused. He added: "That was the task in class today. I thought you hadn't been paying attention. Maybe you can think about it until next class." With these words he turned back to the whiteboard and I was dismissed without a word. I left the room and ran to one of the side corridors, clutching my laptop bag, my heart pounding. It wasn't just the disturbing presence that Mr. Hunter exuded. It was more the fact that I had heard these words before. They seemed so familiar, but I wasn't quite sure when or where I knew them from. I breathed loudly and felt dizzy. Please not again, I thought in panic and quickly took a strong ibuprofen as a preventative measure. I swallowed the small white tablet without a sip of water and tried to calm my pounding heart and my breathing. What was going on? All these mystical men in my life.

Luckily the headache had stopped, the dizziness was still there, but it didn't stop me from going into my room and falling onto the soft sheets. It was wonderfully soft and smelled like detergent. I sighed and put my pillow over my head for a moment, trying to block out the world for a moment. But that only resulted in me being able to hear my blood rushing in my ears and I put it back under my head. My boxes were quickly cleared out and I spent the evening looking at the white ceiling where I could see the streaks of white paint and racking my brain about everything, the last few days, the university, and Mr. Hunter's words . “What reality if this were not mine?” I closed my eyes and tried to imagine how my reality could be different. Maybe if I didn't have my parents as parents. If my friends were different, if perhaps I had been born different and someone completely different. What if I were someone else? Like Matrix, I thought with a snort. A world hidden from us, which we could not see or touch, but which we knew existed. I was rubbing my forehead when I suddenly realized my hand was tingling. Why was she tingling? It felt like I had been sitting on it for too long and the blood flow had been cut off. The tingling became more and more intense, as if the blood was about to flow back into my numb hand. The feeling spread from my fingertips, across my fingers, the inside and outside of my hand, and up my wrist. I wanted to raise my hand and slap my other hand against it, which always made me feel like it would make a difference. But then I noticed that my other hand was starting to tingle too. It quickly went from strange to unpleasant. I wanted to raise my hands, but they no longer obeyed me. The feeling again, a sweet and sour taste, moved up my arms, over my shoulders and reached my chest. It continued to eat its way down my stomach, hips and thighs until it soon filled not only my toes but also up my head towards the top of my head with this feeling. I felt like I was electrified and vibrating. I wouldn't have been surprised if I had picked up a few seconds later. I didn't want to feel this feeling, it was uncomfortable, almost painful. I wanted to get angry and say something, but I couldn't. It was like my body no longer belonged to me. And then I fell. I fell and fell, falling through my bed, further and further down, through the ground floor, through the earth, the first layers of earth, until I almost reached the core of the earth. The feeling of falling didn't want to end until it did and I landed hard and roughly somewhere. Everything hurt, but I quickly realized that nothing seemed broken because after the first brief shock I was able to sit up again and look around.