The Mind's Vessel: part one

'It just doesn't make any sense.' thought David as he lay stretched across his single-sized bed, tossing and catching half of an off-white golf ball, a keepsake from his youth. 'How is it that we remain alive, when life itself is unjustifiable? An infinite amount of decisions to be made, leading to an infinite amount of choices within each, all packed into a finite amount of time to reach them. It's as if we are to draw a line, from point A to point B. Easy enough to accomplish, but how is it that we have managed to cross through an infinite amount of points without using an infinite amount of time?'
It had been on his mind for months now, this idea. And while he did not bother his fellow co-workers (he was just a sales rep by day), David Davidson could not get his mind around the block of information that looms before him. A block not dropped in front of him from out of the blue, but one that had entangled itself inside of him, pulling together every doubt or question he had with his own existence. If only he could climb to the top of this block, and peer over to what lay beyond. Perhaps that was the lock to which he had stumbled upon a key for. Perhaps everything didn't make sense for the very reason that it was only part of something greater. Perhaps, David pondered, as his mind drifted into slumber.
"Gooood morning folks, rise and shine because it is a b-e-a-utiful day here-" The radio alarm pulled David back into consciousness as he half-heartedly depressed the snooze button on the blasted device that Davidson University had so graciously blessed him with. He swung his feet out of bed and onto the cold, wooden floor of his dorm room. Glancing to his left, he noticed a bed similar to his, albeit it was already made and smoothed flat by his roommate. However, as he was admiring the tidiness of his friend's side of the dorm compared to his own, a familiar buzzing resonated from the pocket of the gym shorts David had slept in the night before. Recognizing the vibrations as his cell phone, he quickly retrieved it and answered, eager to see who would bother him to talk at such an early hour. The response left him somewhat baffled.
"Hello, David," the voice on the other line seemingly slithering its way out of the ear piece and into David's head. "it's good to see you've woken up at your usual time. You may be wondering who this is. You may be under the impression that you do not know me. My name is David, David, and I assure you that you know me much, much better than you could ever imagine. And I know you as well. I know the questions you have asked yourself time and time again as you lay in your four-post bed, trying to drown out the sounds of you're friendly, but somewhat disgustingly neat, roommate. And I can show you where you may find the answers. Meet at the Davidson library at 3 o'clock sharp, if you are interested."
As David regained what little composure he could, his barrage of questions were met with the monotonous drone of a dial-tone. He glanced at the clock. he had one hour.