Freshman year wasn't an easy time, I had anxiety and was frequently homesick. During the week, I'd spend a lot of time in my room "studying" and at the weekend I'd go to dinner with a few friends before retreating to my room to play video games. I didn't like my room too much, it was a quad. My roommates and I got on very well, don't get me wrong, but we were all on different schedules and they all had girlfriends, therefore we didn't see each other. Our room was on the top floor of the building, and was notoriously known as the Tower of Doom. I'd heard stories. People had crazy parties, broke things, and who knows what else happened up there. People didn't want to talk about it too much, however it was always a good icebreaker.
Conversations usually went something like:
"Nice to meet you! Where do you live?
"Smith fourth floor! What about you?"
"I live in Parker. Oh, Tower of Doom then, how do you like it?"
"Yeah, I love it!"
I didn't really love it, I guess you could say it had a weird vibe to it.
Because my parents live in the Middle East and were eight or nine hours ahead of me, it wasn't uncommon for me to stay up late and wait for them to wake up so I could call or message them. Normally, late at night, to deal with my anxiety I would bounce a ball on the ground to calm myself. One night mid-semester, I was panicking, I bounced my ball and was able to calm myself quickly. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the peaceful moment.
It was soft when it started. I thought someone on the floor below had heard me bouncing my ball and was knocking on their ceiling to let me know to shut up. I put the ball down and lay still in my bed and It stopped.
We had a dorm dinner later that week and I sat with the girls who lived below me, but there was no mention of my ball bouncing. I was relieved. Soon enough, I was panicking late at night again so I bounced my ball. I couldn't calm myself. I continued to bounce the ball hard and fast. Eventually, calmly and slowly I was able to lie down in bed and that was when It started again. This time with meaning, and from above.
After some time my eyelids grew heavy, I fell asleep and the repetitive knocking faded as my mind wandered into sleep.
I told my roommates about the knocking and they assumed It was just the hot water pipes above us. Sounded reasonable. Surprisingly, It always started after I stopped bouncing my ball and was always the same pattern. Funny pipes, huh? As the first semester began to wind down my anxiety improved, I made friends and even stopped having panic attacks late at night. College life ensued and all was going well.
Early Sophomore year I was taking a communications class and the professor knocked on the table. A shiver ran down my spine.
"Does anyone recognize that Morse Code? It's the call for help."
...
