As a kid, it was never so clear to me that sleep functions as a sort of a time machine as it was on Christmas Eve. The sooner that I went to sleep, the sooner that I would wake up and it would be Christmas morning. Of course, nervous excitement made this more of an intellectual concept than anything that I could willfully induce, but I was aware that time was a concept that I could bend to my will, if only crudely.
I need a way to sleep through each semester. I want the time to pass, and I want to make sure that I actually go through the motions of the educational process, but I don’t want to actually be conscious of the passage of time. I’d like to wake after finals, such that I can enjoy my brief break and read my textbooks for the next semester before dozing off again, only to wake again weeks later. I don’t see any compelling evidence that I couldn’t sleepwalk my way through classes. After all, many of my fellow students wake only long enough to enter and exit the class. I suspect that my teachers would be pleased to find that I had the courtesy to at least appear to be awake.
If executed properly, I could leave this godforsaken university in just a few weeks, or so it would seem.