Magellan

I was collecting and ordering information on something, archivist-like, when a letter was dropped onto the desk of the person sitting opposite me. It was typed and from you. It was a response to something they had written you. It started with the usual, a paragraph of politeness, and then: "Yes, I am Magellan." I snatched the letter and went outside with it. I'd known about the time travelling, of course. We all did it once in a while. I went to the balcony, it was raining a bit and I sat under the big umbrella on a bench from which the pigeons fled as I came, and I hunched over the letter to read it. "Yes, I am Magellan," then followed something about a sea map that you'd been trying to decipher, "I understand the map a lot better now," and I was excited, curious, and proud. Then out came the person you'd written this to, joined me on the bench, and you. Both of you began talking merrily about the map business and I squished the tomato pieces I was holding in my right hand (apparently I was eating them - don't ask me why, I hate tomatoes) and started sobbing dramatically. It was a bit embarassing, but it was serious. That you would have all those adventures, do something so important, be one of the most famous explorers of all time, and not mention it to me at all! was devastating. And that you would address it so matter-of-factly now, as if I already knew everything about it, was equally disturbing. I got up and tried to check myself against another onrush of The Sob, but when one of you asked me what the matter was, it started again, and I turned to leave.

There came a bit of something else aftwards, but it was pretty much just before waking up. I found it really interesting. Still do.