He hasn't woken since Maggie and Collin dropped him off on Tuesday. At some point, his glasses managed to find their way onto a stack of nearby books, and he kicked off his boots and socks as well. Otherwise, Thomas has been outcold. Attempts to rouse him have pretty much proven futile (and cold water dumped on him just would have produced a cold and wet mortal boy.) But he's been sleeping a deep, seemingly dreamless sleep.Then suddenly, without warning of any sort, he jerks himself upright. His eyes are wild. Flailing around, he manages to find his glasses. He then does something he almost never does:"Holy shit!"Frantically, he starts to push books and magazines off of his desk. "Where's a pen?! I need a God-damned pen! Jesus fucking Christ!"Grasping a pen and a sheet of paper, he starts to write.
Sometime later Carver returns to the room with a pack back stuffed with stolen food from the dining hall. After a couple seconds he notices that the top of Thomas's head is visible in another part of the book mound. Carver sets his backpack down and takes off his coat."Hey you're alive. Good for you. I think I've got some cold chicken fingers and a bottle of sports drink if you want," Carver mentions casually carefully not mentioning the other three zip lock bags of food.
Thomas stops writing and stares at the paper for a moment. The pen hovers over lined sheet after two words: "There was".He sighs to himself. "Oh, crude. I lost it."Sitting back onto his haunches, Thomas rubs at his face. "I had it. I had this poem in my head. Like something out of the Eddas or Celtic myths. Or maybe I just dreamed that I did... and now it's gone."Collin's words start to sink into his head. "Food? Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I feel like I haven't eaten in weeks." In fact, Thomas does seem a bit more wane than usual.
Carver tosses the back with the chicken in it to Thomas. "You haven't eaten in two maybe three days, Sleeping Beauty. Might want to call Maggie and let her know that you didn't die now that you're moving about."Carver then locks the door, opens the window, and turns on the fan before sitting at his desk and pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the drawer. He holds the open end of the pack out to Thomas. "So what was this dream poem of yours about anyway?"
Thomas catches with both hands, and literally seems to tear into the chicken in hunger. "Weeks, hell! Feels like..."He pauses mid-chew. "Three days...?" Swallowing, Thomas blinks several times. "I remember... a party... but that seems like last month or something. And the poem was about... umm..." He scratches the top of his head, just behind the ear. "I dunno. Maybe I just dreamed I wrote a poem, and it was still stuck in my head when I woke up.""Maggie. I should call Maggie." He looks around for the student directory. "Now where the heck is the stalker's guide?"
Carver pulls out a cigarette for himself and tosses the pack back into his desk. "Must have been some party. We could all use a party like that."He lights his cigarette and gestures at one of the book piles. "I think you stuck it under the your last run of library books."Then he turns to rummage though the papers on his desk.