Stretching before me are green fields that lead to a two-lane road. On the other side, forest kicks in. It’s Antic Springs for sure, but I can’t quite locate where I’m standing in relation to campus. It worries me that I’ve completely wandered away from school with a head injury, though with every moment, my mind clears, and the throb lessens.

I stand to look for landmarks and—

I throw up.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.

I don’t even want to say it. I can’t. If I do, it’ll be real.

The marching band, which I can see now, a phalanx of blue and gold marching on the grass next to a ball field, is making precise turns to cadences counted out by a very short majorette with very tall bangs. Beyond the band, my red brick campus glows in hot May light.

I sit down, so I don’t fall down.

I can clearly see the ball field that was turned into a parking lot my freshman year; right now, it is lush and green and being marched upon by a band that no longer exists, led by my mom, who I left standing in a bathroom at home like twenty minutes ago.

I lay flat on my back and try to calm down.

So, I read a lot. I see a lot of movies. And I know instantly where I am and what has happened and that this is impossible in real life.

I have basically memorized all three Back to the Futures, even though only the first one is any good. I binge-watched Outlander, despite having figured out the big twist way early. I wrote a book report on A Wrinkle in Time in third grade (though, really, it was more like A Wrinkle in Space, but whatever). I was obsessed with Hangin’ Out with Cici, this totally ’70s book about a girl who has to go back to the ’60s to appreciate her mother; it was my mom’s original copy from when she was a kid. My favorite X-Men movie is the one with the Nazis and John F. Kennedy, and all the time-leaping that Cheng says is too confusing, but which I love. (Next to any of these, Connecticut Yankee is kind of a snooze, IMHO.)

Right this moment, two options present themselves: A) I have a traumatic head injury—oh my god, am I in a coma?—and my addled brain is imagining all this; B) time travel is real, and my semi-obsession with it made me ripe for the picking. Both options have serious drawbacks.

I know I’m being dramatic, but that’s kind of my brand. And I’ve just been wiped out by a huge beam, so …