Not a good time for breakfast

Date: 12/28/2018

I woke up panicking that it was too late and when I tried to look at the time on my phone it said 19:95, on my iPad it said 45:15. When I asked my mother, she showed me her watch indicating another fucked up hour. Something was wrong. No, I was just dreaming! As soon as I realised that, things started to get better. I got dressed and went to the shopping mall (which reminded me of Bon Accord in Aberdeen) with my mother and we stopped at a cafe. She ordered a coffee for herself but I didn’t want anything. I had just noticed, over the table we were sitting at, a suspended shelf with plates full of coloured cakes. There was a half-eaten piece of chocolate cake with a green coating, which I suddenly remember having taken a bite from a few days earlier, on my flatmate’s birthday. I’d have eaten the last piece, but it was already 36:34 —not a good time for breakfast.