Trapped In Time

I had rubbed my eyes as the beaming, bright sun beat down on me. My vision had taken a blur, though I could slowly envision where the hell I was. I stumbled a little, then slowly stood up from the ground. I couldn't feel the familiarity of the 'click-clack' of the floor, or even the cement sidewalk that I would so often stroll upon.

Instead, I was met with grains and grains of loose granular material with a brown that could be similar to a Monday morning coffee latte (though I cannot recall a time where I actually did drink a latte in my existence).

I scanned my surroundings; people chatted amongst themselves while embracing either interest or disinterest at items that had been displayed by the store owners. They dressed in long, white robes that were accessorized with overly posh jewelry; that posed an inference that it was probably gold.

I looked at the civilians in their white robes, then looked at myself with my dark, cargo pants and my white, slightly oversized t-shirt. My black satchel accompanied me, the darkness of the strap hanging over my shoulder.

I knew I wasn't in the Egyptian exhibit in the museum, nor was I even inside the museum at all. Everything seemed out-of-this-world and confusing, yet I pursued with determination to elude this realistic 'dream'.

Back to the people chatting around me, it was in no shape or form close to the English I was comfortable with. I pulled my phone out of my satchel and read the message 'No Service Available' pasted on the screen.

I must have somehow.. time traveled back then. Although the idea felt quite absurd and childish, it wasn't an impossible theory; the chances of the theory being veracious were slim, but nothing said that it would never have been the case.

That's when I noticed that I was standing in the middle of the sandy path, as all the civilians had backed away to the shopping stalls. They all seem to be bowing down, but to what? Retainers (basically bodyguards of the Pharaoh) started approaching with sharp spears at their sides. Following behind them was a large chariot being pulled by dark horses, and I recognized the golden headpiece and clothing all too well, as if I had met them before.

The man sitting idly in the chariot abruptly stopped in front of me. The retainers pointed their spears at me, as if threatening me to make a move.. to see what would happen if I even tried to.

I was the odd one out.

Of course, I'd be treated like a foreigner. My clothes were a whole other era, the small ponytail in my black hair seemed to differentiate from the others, my satchel was peered at like some sort of crazy new invention, and I wasn't bowing down like the rest of the people. If I had been more aware and meticulous about my surroundings, I would have just followed along and avoided this whole ordeal. I had been too focused on how I had gotten here that I was too stuck out to hide quietly.

I peered intently at the man; his response was the same as he returned my suspicious glare back at me. The tension in the air was thick as the density of ice; extremely, EXTREMELY, thick.

So, the best thing to do while stuck in this overwhelming predicament was to complain about it inside my mind. I went into my mind space, and my thoughts started screaming.

Thought #1 started off by anxiously yelling, "What the hell is happening?! This is crazy shit! I'm only nineteen, spare me of this!!"

Thought #2 followed with, "This has to be a dream! Haha, we need to get more sleep this time around. Or maybe we need a therapist, cause this dream seems way too real."

Of course, Thought #3 had to simmer the boiling pot of water by suggesting, "We need to calm down! Something must have happened. This could be a dream, or maybe something really did happen, and we have been put to the duty to discover this thing."

Thought #4 honestly fueled the fire, throwing gasoline all over the pacing flames, "WE ARE GOING TO FUCKING DIE!!! THOUGHT NUMBER 3, SHUT THE FUCK UP!! AT THIS RATE, THE LAST THING I WILL GET TO EXPERIENCE IS BE STABBED AT BY A BUNCH OF WEIRD MEN WITH SPEARS! I HAD WAY MORE POTENTIAL THAN THIS!!"

Then, Thought #3 revolted at the insulting statement that Thought #4 had employed. Thought #2 was trying to take Thought #3's role by simmering the two's spiteful comments. Thought #1 was being overdramatic in the corner, babbling about how they were only so young, and that they would never see the light of day again.

My mind space was probably the last place where I wanted to be. My thoughts were scrambled like a new set of fresh puzzle pieces. Panic rushed all through my body at the speed of light.

Yet even so, I maintained a purely nonchalant facial expression.

Back to the world of reality, I noticed the man smirk at me. The hell is this guy's problem?

I was ready for the unfamiliar language to spit out of his mouth, but the next words I heard were,

"I am King Tutankhamen of Egypt. Who are you, and why are you in my territory?"

.

.

.

Am I mental, or did that guy just speak perfect English?