Chapter 2

I swooned and hit my knee against the teacher's desk in front of me.

"Are you okay, Mr. Coleman?" a girl asked.

I looked up and discovered I was in a room full of high school students. I sat heavily on the desk chair.

"Are you alright?" the same girl asked.

"I ... I don't know," I said softly.

Some student faces showed the same concern as the girl, but a few boys smirked.

"I'll get the nurse," the girl said and ran out.

What was going on? Was I dead? Where was I? This didn't seem to be heaven or hell. If this was the afterlife, it sure seemed to be outdated. The students' clothing and the girls' hairstyles reminded me of something out of the 80s. Either hell or heaven badly needed a fashion update.

Was it all a dream? Was I still on the hospital table? Was I still in the auto wreck? Did the wreck happen at all? The last thing I remembered was a big truck closing in on me.

I glanced around. From the items on the wall, it seemed to be an American history class. Why did I have a vague familiar feeling?

"Are you okay, Mr. Coleman?" a boy asked.

"Who's Mr. Coleman?" I asked back.

The boy gave me a concerned look.

I noticed the open textbook. I thumbed through it and ran across a president's chart in the back. It ended with Ronald Reagan. No wonder our kids were stupid. The book, while in good condition, was over 25 years old. The book's copyright said 1982.

An adult woman came into the room, followed by the girl who ran out and another man.

"He doesn't know who he is!" the boy said.

"Are you okay?" the woman asked, looking into my eyes.

"Are you a nurse?" I asked because of the way she observed me.

"What happened?" the man asked.

"It looked like he was going to faint, Principal Simmons," a girl said.

"How many fingers do I have up, John?" the nurse said.

"Four," I answered. "Who's John?"

"You are."

"I am?"

"Does he need a doctor?" the principal asked.

"I ... I don't know," the nurse said.

Doctor? I didn't think so. The last time I saw a doctor, I was dying.

"Maybe I should just go home and come back tomorrow?" I suggested. "I'm okay."

"Are you sure, John?" the nurse asked.

"Yes, I'm definitely sure." I stood up confidently. I still didn't know why they called me John, but going home would be a good way to reset life and figure out what was going on.

"Don't you want your briefcase?" the original girl asked.

"Oh, yes," I said, laughing it off.

I put the textbook in it and grabbed the jacket on the back of the chair.

"Do you have your car keys?" the nurse asked.

"Uh..." I patted my pockets.

The nurse pointed at the desk.

"Oh, yeah. I guess I'm not myself."

Who I was I had no idea.

"I'll walk you to your car," the nurse said.

"Sure," I said, acting self-assured.

I stepped out of the room with the nurse.

"Let me take you to the hospital," she said.

"That's okay. I just got dizzy. A good night sleep is all I need and I'll be myself."

"The parking lot is that way."

"I know that. Just teasing."

She frowned.

We made it to the staff parking lot. I had no idea which car was mine. Apparently, the school didn't pay much because all the cars were twenty years old or so.

"Thanks ... uh..." I said.

"Amy," she filled in.

"Amy. Yes, of course! My mind went blank right. Weird."

"Let me take you to the hospital, John. Something's wrong with you."

"I was up late last night," I said, trying a new excuse. "I couldn't get to sleep. I'm just tired."

I decided to do something totally uncharacteristic of me. I kissed the brunette woman on her forehead and said, "Thanks for caring, Amy."

She stood there so I waved her off.

"See you tomorrow, okay? I'll check in with you."

"Okay," she said reluctantly.

When Nurse Amy left, I tried my car key in every car until it unlocked a door. The car key looked to be a duplicate since there was no vendor name stamped on it. The key unlocked a Datsun B210.

Damn! It was a stick shift. I hadn't driven stick since I was in college. I started the engine and backed the car out. I stalled a couple of times before I exited the parking lot, but once I was on the street I was okay. The car was in very good condition.

I drove toward home but something was very wrong. Businesses were open that closed long ago. The signage on the McDonald's was years outdated. I passed a corner restaurant that I was certain was now a popular national chain restaurant. I passed by undeveloped areas that should be covered with homes and stores. The biggest problem occurred when I reached the freeway onramp. The ramp was still being built.

I pulled over to the side of the road. What was going on? Apparently, the area of the city where my home was located was still grasslands and meadows.

I took out my wallet. Staring back at me was my driver's license photo. It was definitely a picture of me but the name said, "John Coleman". All my physical characteristics were correct and even my birth date.

A tap on the window startled me. I cranked the window handle.

"You broken down?" the cop asked.

"Got lost," I said, looking at the address on my license. I knew where it was. "I got it figured out now. I must have taken a wrong turn on Fifth."

"Okay. You shouldn't stop so close to the construction."

"Sorry about that. I'll be on my way."

"Have a good day." The cop started to turn away.

"Sir?" I quickly said.

"Yes?"

"What's today's date?"

"January 11th."

"What year?"

"1984."

I pulled into the apartment complex still trembling from the news that it was 1984. How did it happen? The bigger question was what should I do now? Should I live as John Coleman, history teacher?

The two-story Palisades Apartments never looked so good. Of course, it was only a couple of years old instead of the twenty-five years that I remembered. Fortunately, the parking spots were marked with the apartment number so I knew where to park. My place was on the bottom floor.

I unlocked unit 14. The decor was a shock. I wasn't an aesthetically discerning man but even I could recognize hideous. Did people really like this look in the eighties? Was this the reason for the uptick in mental illness in the future?

I apparently did okay on a teacher's salary. The furniture was in reasonable condition and nothing looked old. Ack! That was my TV? At least I had a remote. I had a VCR too, but I wasn't too smart there. It was a Betamax.

In the bathroom, I stared into the mirror. It was unmistakably me. What was I doing here?

I spent the next hours looking through everything in the apartment to find out who I was. As far as I could tell, I was unmarried and seemed to have no connections to anybody. I was alone just like I would be in twenty-five years. I found my bank statements and discovered I was doing a reasonable job saving money. That was what I was doing in the future too.

Why was my life essentially the same except I was now John Coleman and why was I a history teacher? I hated school. I was a good student but I always got picked on by the boys and teased by the girls. I was an adult now but I didn't want to be back at school in any fashion.

I did decide one thing. I needed to make a living and since I already had a job I might as well teach. I looked through the papers in my briefcase and got a general idea how far my classes were in the textbook. I was sure the students would correct me.

I had so many questions and thoughts and ideas. I didn't have a Google or Wikipedia to search out answers. I'd have to figure things out as I went along.

I was hyped up with adrenaline so I turned on the TV. Solid Gold was on. I forgot about that show. Some things in life were better as repressed memories. Toni Basil was singing "Over My Head." It was an awful song. She would always be a one hit wonder with her song "Mickey".

I changed the channel. Dynasty. I shuddered. Another channel had The Facts of Life. I went to bed.

My alarm clock went off. I didn't remember setting it. John Coleman must have turned it on yesterday. I was glad the alarm went off because I had to get to work this Thursday morning. I showered and had a bite for breakfast before heading out. I stalled the Datsun once getting out of the complex.

The stereo was an aftermarket unit and played cassettes though there weren't any in the car. The radio station played a slow mushy song by Air Supply, so I changed to a different preset. A Lionel Ritchie song came on. It appeared I had bad taste in music.

At each stoplight, I reprogrammed my radio presets. One station was playing the Police and Duran Duran, so I put that in. Another station had Missing Persons and Madness. I liked the 80s new wave. I liked some of the heavy metal bands of the day too like Quiet Riot and Def Leppard, so I set two rock stations. One station would eventually become a classic rock station and no longer play most of the heavy metal while the other would change format to modern rock soon after Nirvana hit the scene.