You're running out of time -- but you've only been talking for five minutes.

You're setting up your slideshow when you see five extra slides you don't remember adding. You're sure they're relevant, somehow.

You aren't sure which room you're supposed to be in. "Oh, that's in the old part of the building," everybody you ask tells you. There has never been an old part of this building.

The conference hashtag has morphed into some obscure ancient language you don't speak. You wonder whether it's just a hashtag.

All the sessions you want to attend are at the same time as yours. All sixteen of them.

You really should know who the keynote speaker is, but the precise memory is escaping you. The name sounds very familiar, and very old.

You definitely weren't laden down with all these books when you walked into the university presses room. You don't even need all these books. Where did they come from?

Somebody asks you a question about the rhetorical uses of Cyrillic characters in a long-forgotten book. Your presentation was on millennial blogging culture.

You don't remember reading half the works you've cited in your presentation, but surely you did read them. Right?

All the fonts in your slideshow are now Comic Sans. Your slides are in PDF form.

Your next presentation is in a different building. Google Maps tells you to kayak over there.

The audio cable doesn't fit into its jack. You blow on it and try again. It fits.

You're not entirely sure what's in this cup, but it's not coffee. You don't care.