The Jump Journal
Page 26
August 20th
I woke up this morning with the dogged attitude of an Army recruit dragging himself through boot camp. I know that I must have slept, because I can’t recall what I did last night. Yesterday was, um….well, I don’t know what happened yesterday. I can vividly recall a time-warped encounter with the “Tom Brady wannabe”, but everything after that is as hard to grasp as a handful of water.
Come to think of it, I don’t know the difference between what happened yesterday and my dreams from last night. Weird dreams, too. I think there was a book…..and a letter. Yeah, a book and a letter that were- no, it was a-….damn it. There it goes. I know that there was a girl too,…wow, she was something. I remember her really well, but there’s something else. Something like a warning.
I really want to try time travel again. After yesterday’s power trip, that’s really all that I want to do. I just can’t shake this feeling, though….there’s this gut reaction every time that I think about the words “time travel” or “jump” that makes me queasy. It’s almost as if there’s a part of me that is scared of what might happen if I try it again. I don’t know. I’ll just have to see what today brings.
****
I’m freaking out. I must have been seeing things in class today, but I would swear on my life that I saw the girl from my dreams last night. Not even joking, and I’m almost sure that I’m not delusional. She came in to drop off something for our professor, and the second that I saw her, I was hit with a wave of déjà vu that packed the punch of an eighteen-wheeler. I just knew that I’d seen her before, and it took me awhile, but I finally placed her as the perfect “10” starring in my bizarre dream the other night. The prof called her Tara, so I promptly stopped listening to any of his lecture and started trying to find this Tara on the Ohio State student website. Sure enough, Tara Matthew’s name popped up, along with a picture that somehow did manage to do her justice. Too bad it’s not a great conversation starter. “Hey, I stalked you and you were in my dream last night. Wanna go out?” That’d work well.
I thought about time-travelling when I saw her. I figured that I could find a way to impress her, wow her in some way. A split second later, however, I felt a now- familiar drop in the pit of my stomach, followed by vague memories of the dream that I’d had. The voice in my head, the one that speaks thoughts into words, spun this sentence out of nowhere: If you jump, you will lose her. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why that phrase jumped out at me, but it stuck. There’s……I don’t know, just something about that dream that I just can’t shake. Besides, if this Tara girl is as awesome as she seems, I know that I don’t want to miss out on her. Maybe she’ll be at one of the football games coming up. Who knows? Ryan buddy, you better bring your A-game for a girl like that. No worries though. I’m not in any rush.
I’ve got all the time in the world.
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Acknowledgments
It’s my belief that anything worth making has multiple hands involved in the creation process. There are a few people that deserve a warm “thank you” for their efforts in this process.
-A huge shout out to Ronnell Porter, for a spectacular cover. Seriously. You took my scribbles and turned them into something magnificent. Truly the work of a magician.
-For my editor, Neil Corriveau, a simple thanks doesn’t cut it. I owe you my existence, for starters, but if I’m limiting this round of gratitude to this novel, your work was indispensable. I doubt that too many people would enjoy reading my speed-of-thought-but-not-of-hands conglomeration of typos, substitutions, and missing words.
-To the H-Vid team: Thank you for tolerating my unending barrage of questions as you slogged through the treacherously, unedited version of this book. Your support, and yes, even your criticism, was wonderful. A writer couldn’t ask for better beta-readers or better friends.
-To all family and friends who supported this crazy venture: my writing will forever shaped by your love and your friendship.
-To my Savior, the One who I owe everything: Thank you. Words cannot express, but for lack of anything else, this will have to do.
Meet the Author
Doug Corriveau was born and raised in New Hampshire. He drifted through three schools and two-and-a-half majors before figuring out that writing was his passion. Now, you couldn’t pay him to stop. He currently lives in Boston, MA, wrapping up his degree at Emerson College.
He loves books of all kinds and mixed martial arts (watching or participating) and cannot stand department store manikins.
Follow on Twitter @DougCorriveau or contact at douglas.n.corriveau@gmail.com