I had the strangest dream the other night. Or rather, I think it was more towards the morning because of course, that’s when I’m sleeping most comfortably….right before the freaking alarm goes off. Anyway, in my dream I was wandering the halls of my high school. I wasn’t back in high school, I was at the age I am now and I was on a mission. It’s funny how in your dreams, you can remember everything. It was like nothing changed. I could see the hallways, the classroom doors, the windows to the outside courtyard areas and even some familiar faces passed by. Like I said, I was on a mission but I was not sure what for.
Then I saw him….this little skinny dark headed teenager huddled into a ball on the floor up against the wall, hiding his face. There were larger boys above him shouting mean things at him, calling him a wimp, a pussy and a freak. I ran over to him and yelled at the bullies to leave him alone. I screamed at them… “Leave him alone or I swear, I’ll kick your ass!” This strikes me as funny now because, I went to a Catholic high school. I vaguely remember them actually taking me seriously and leaving. I took the young boy’s arm and helped him up. I noticed he had been crying and it broke my heart. I said “C’mon, we’re going to the office”. My blood was boiling and even though this was a dream, I could feel the heat on my face.
We made our way to the school office (which in my dream hadn’t changed in almost 18 years) and I asked to speak with a counselor on behalf of this poor kid. This is where it got strange…well, stranger. We sat there for what seemed like hours and finally were ushered into one of the rooms. I started to lose my cool and go off about how this boy was being bullied and the man standing there calmly listening to me just put his index finger up to his lips….in the manner to tell me to be quiet. Then the bell rang….which really was my damn alarm.
When I woke up I had no idea where I was, what year it was or how old I was. Above all I couldn’t help but feel as if the kid still needed my help! I might be completely whacked and need to lay off of the wine/benadryl bedtime cocktails but it was like I was reading a book and wanted to see how it ended. The fact that I had to wake up makes me feel incredibly cheated and weirdly, a little sad.
What the hell is wrong with our brains…I can barely control mine when I’m awake and then it completely takes over while I’m asleep too. That’s just not fair and I refuse to be a pawn in it’s little game. Maybe this is how authors get their inspiration for novels….as a dream that had no ending so they felt the need to make it semi-reality by putting it on paper and sharing it with the world. I bet J.K. Rowling had some crazy ass dreams — I mean she HAD to have been asleep when coming up with some of that Harry Potter stuff. Think about it….Voldemort must’ve been a product of the subconscious mind….his nose-less, snakelike appearance had to be the brain on overdrive sleep mode. Now she’s a multimillionaire. Damn….I need to start writing!