To the future... of the past

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So, I've always wanted to go into the past. 

Just to see it, to learn every little intricate detail. 

Well, now I'm in a blue box, and guess what?

I'm going to the future. 

"We are going to the past... sort of," the Doctor said, shrugging awkwardly. "It's just the future of the past."

"You are more confusing than your TARDIS," I replied, setting down the giant blue instruction manual I had forced him to retrieve from a supernova for me. Honestly, I'm surprised he couldn't be motivated into taking my to the Mesozoic. Maybe he just liked the thrill of not knowing if he was going to wake up alive tomorrow. 

I knew one thing for sure - I didn't. 

Ever since he turned up on my doorstep, asking if I had a bowl of custard and fish sticks to share (which I did, to be perfectly honest), I'd been having really trippy dreams. 

First there was the blonde girl who worked in a shop. 

Then this cute guy she met during WWII.

Then this African-British doctor lady showed up, and then she ditched... someone? The dream didn't show who. 

Then there was the first ginger. She forgot about someone altogether. 

Then there was another ginger, and her husband, who wasn't ginger, and they both got trapped in a paradox. 

There was a curly-haired woman, and I liked her. 

And then this school teacher, who's boyfriend died, and then she died too. 

Yeah. 

Dreams are really weird. 

Anyways, I was scared of becoming that last one. 

But the Doctor was nice. And he promised that nothing bad would happen to me as long as I payed a bit of attention to the basic rules, and then... well, that was that. 

The basic rules, apparently, weren't so basic. 

Rule one: The Doctor lies. Rule two: Be good at running. Rule three: No spoilers (no idea what that means). Rule four: Never trust a trash can. Rule five: Run if you hear anything screaming the word exterminate. Rule five: count the shadows. 

They seemed to get more ridiculous as they went along, I was honestly getting confused. 

But if I acted confused, I was worried he'd call me Ms. Thick Thickity Thickface... well, you get the point. 

The TARDIS made the mechanical grinding sound it always made before landing, and I sighed. 

Did this guy always have to leave the brakes on??

We stepped out into... 

Now you continue the story. Simple as that!

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