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<08/14/2009 - 06:11 | 559 Motion Street, Austell, GA, USA>
As I just concluded a moment ago, that dream I just experienced had me going mad inside. I still stuck to my routine, but during all of breakfast and oatmeal, I could not shake my mind from pondering the dream so much. I hated it, despised it, my anger growing the more I was forced to remember.
Of course, under normal circumstances, nobody would be so upset to have that dream in the first place, or to wake up from its surroundings. The situation I was in during that dream was not ideal, but I could tell it wasn't entirely me in there either.
Ever hear of something called lucid dreams? Well I have. They're basically situations where you retain or regain your conscious awareness during your own dream state, without waking up from that realization immediately after. I've had several dreams where I realized I was dreaming, but the consequence for it was the immediate end of that dream and a shocking yet disappointing awakening. But sometimes one does not awaken from their own dream when retaining that consciousness. They say that if you lucid dream, you get to control all of your own actions and thoughts within the dream, as well as all of the details, actions, events, and other aspects of your own dream; a master of that reality - at least until it ends. Sometimes, someone can be lucid dreaming without actually realizing they are lucid dreaming in the first place, at least for a short time.
The reason I brought it up? When I came back to this crappy world again, my first thought was that it was a lucid dream. But upon further reflection, I realized it was not. I acted like my real self, at least for the first half of the moment anyway, but I could tell that I was not actually the one having all of those thoughts. My real consciousness was totally shut down in that moment; I was truly asleep. So why then did that environment have such heavy excruciating levels of detail?
This in fact was the reason I was still so upset about it. I've had several dreams before. The more abstract dreams or the dreams where I act less like my real self - have less detail to them, darkened as if all available light were being absorbed halfway. Perhaps that is only how I remember them, but not this time. I'm certain that if I were fully aware of myself in that dream, physically speaking, I would never be able to tell the difference between the real world and the fake one...
My fingers rubbed the top of my arm, trying to remember that gentle moist brush of damp grass and dew squished against my skin. Why couldn't I appreciate such realism in the moment? For a non-lucid dream, that still felt way too real. There are moments of the real world that don't even feel that stimulating. It's as if I had some kind of hidden understanding or something during the moment. That is why I'm so pissed off. I became so attached to the vivid levels of that world and did not want to leave it. Having those other classmates in there with me was strange, but not out of the ordinary for a dream.
Still, I can't believe that even in that dream, my obsession with the world outside of Earth carried over... How much of a dork do I have to be anyway? When am I going to get some real friends to get my mind off this mess? It sure isn't likely to happen at school. It's only been three days, and I have to go again today as well.
But making friends there seems just as hopeless as it was last year, and the years before that. Ignoring my internal personal problems, I decided to just get another day over with. I prepared my book bag, grabbed the lunch my mother set out for me, and woke everyone else up to be ready walking me to the bus stop.
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<08/14/2009 - 08:00 | Saffrin Middle School, Austell, GA, USA>
Despite how upset I got about it earlier, I really miss the world my mind leased to me already. Upon walking inside of the school full of loud noise from all the social groups buzzing around the halls just before the start of homeroom, I was quickly reminded how much I hate it here. On some levels, it wasn't as bad here as it was at Robins Elementary School, but it was far less interesting than I dared to hope for. This place is super boring when I have nobody to talk to and no friends to hang out with. But seeing everyone else all buddied up only drove the point home, one hundred times over, again and again without end. At least it's the only reason for my boredom here.
"Hi Reed! Got a moment?"
My peaceful yet gloomy slumber had been broken just after rounding the corner towards the far left classroom of my homeroom. The woman calling me out from the first open door of her own classroom, Ms. Brown – was currently my English and math teacher for most of the day, but this came with its own set of unexpected issues since the very first day of school. Ignoring my own desire to unleash my pessimism into words, I just nodded and approached her for whatever reason this was about. Awkward as this might seem, Ms. Brown is a rather cheery person, and for good reason too.
Handing me several stacked sheets of paperwork, Ms. Brown congratulated herself and her now former student for fixing the mistakes within the scheduling. "Check it out. These are the classes you were supposed to be in. I had a talk about it to the principle and she totally fix everything. Said she had the wrong name entered or something."
"Oh." The context clues in her phrasing and these sheets of paper really were what they sounded like... I'm shocked! Something so trivial and stupid actually snapped me out of the dreading boredom I was in, for a few seconds at least. No, it's better than that! This means that my schedule is finally fixed! Just by glancing at the top sheet, I saw the phrase English printed right next to honors! They actually fixed it!
"It saddens me to see you go, but at least you're on the right track, and gifted!" Ms. Brown spoke with such intense enthusiasm and happiness, as it was her nature. Nobody thought it was weird or a bad thing. The reason for that should be obvious by now.
Ms. Brown is actually a special education teacher. Special education, as in learning for the mentally challenged, which I certainly am not. For those of you remembering what it was like to learn math in middle school, imagine suddenly being placed in a class that went backwards by about three grades in terms of intelligence. As much as I didn't mock the challenged kids for simply being that way, I couldn't describe what pure torture it was having my head filled with information I already knew and understood too well. It's like graduating college with a degree in computer science, only to then take a class on how to left click and right click using a USB mouse, or how to shut down the operating system. Such situations are not just insulting, they're torturous! Absolutely torturous! I can barely hold in how excited I am to finally rid myself of that class. It felt like I was going backwards in education just by being in there!
I told Ms. Brown of the obvious mistake the moment I realized what was going on. The handling of my schedule was a disorganized mess, so I ended up in the wrong classes. She agreed to get involved and help me fix it, but also required me to be patient and attend her class until it was fixed. As unhappy as I was to follow through with that plan, she came through for me in the end!
Though she could have phrased it better. To say that I'm gifted just sounds weird, and I don't get it. In middle school and high school, at least in Georgia anyway, schools have this kind of system for Advanced level classes. It's essentially the same subject for the same grade level, with the difference being that advance classes have more content and keep a faster pace, intending to cater to those who demonstrate a higher level of intelligence than average. But here, they actually don't refer to it as advanced classes. They instead refer to it as honors classes, and sometimes refer to honor students as gifted students. There's supposed to be difference between a normal honors student and a gifted honors student, but I honestly just don't see that difference. Supposedly, taking honors classes looks good on high school and college transcripts. That's what I've been told anyway.
I was only recommended for honors classes after the fifth grade for good CRCT scores, impressively so in English and Mathematics. So, my normal schedule going into sixth grade should have been all ordinary classed with honors math and honors English. Instead, they screwed up and gave me those classes for special needs. It's so infuriating!
After thanking Ms. Brown, I kept the paperwork in hand, slowly walking the halls while studying each period slot to see where the new classroom numbers were going to be, and who I would have as teachers. Meanwhile, I had to settle into homeroom.
Homeroom, I accounted silently in my mind, upon walking in and panning around again as usual. Despite walking in here for the fourth time in a row, the space still felt too unfamiliar to me to get used to. Still, I decided to take a set and trickle down my time by studying that new schedule again.
Homeroom classes are nothing special. They don't teach anything, and only last for fifteen minutes. The point is to allow students who are only mildly late to congregate and get organized before missing any important lessons of class they would just have to make up later, but there was another reason for its existence. Even though each homeroom teacher is simply a teacher from some other class or subject, they all share the role of a homeroom class as well for the sole purpose of passing around school news or administrative announcements and documents, thus ensuring everyone can be updated on all information. It's also the only class students get on the first day before receiving their full official class schedule.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
But of course, while homeroom is one class, most other classes ran between 50 minutes to a full hour, ranging up to six full periods. Periods are also another term that the people in the school to use to substitute the word classes. Each student has six periods with certain class exceptions depending on the subject. Even with honors classes, I had six periods on this schedule.
[https://i.postimg.cc/wMsWWD5Z/test111.png]
Fairly straight forward. At least today won't be boring since I have to go to all these new classes, meet these new teachers, and learn new subjects... Rather, I will probably have to make up the work just to catch up in that class, which really isn't fair after the way the administration messed that up for me in the first place. But whatever; at least it gives me the chance to try and make new friends.
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<08/14/2009 - 13:32 | Saffrin Middle School, Austell, GA, USA>
Time marched through each of my periods, usually in some kind of silence controlled by my shyness. Thanks to the environments being new, it was not difficult to stay awake and keep my overactive mind from painting everything with daydreams like it did yesterday. I entered the final classroom of the day with a sliver of solace that the balance overall wasn't too bad. Still, I kept my guards up for this one.
Schools also force people to take classes known as electives. Many try to justify them as vitally important to learn despite not being part of the core subjects, like art or gym. However, while significant, they are not really essential to the knowledge needed to graduate. For now, all I could do was accept my fate. I don't even like Spanish, nor do I care to learn the language. But if I have to, I have to. If there ever is a class to struggle in, it will probably be this one.
Since I was on time, I wasn't the first or last one to enter the classroom, but I kept my average pace anyway and took a random seat to not attract attention. I didn't realize that even with my pacing, I was still about three minutes early, courteously of my last class being so close to this one. Even though I didn't know it yet, it was this class on this day that would continue to freshen my memory forever. What was about to happen to me next was but another layer of weirdness I was never expecting...
"You like the show too?" "There is nothing normal about that show."
Small talk, one of the most hated virtues of any introvert, but sometimes a necessary evil. If I ever hope to have a chance to involve myself somehow in their discussion, I too must become accustomed to the same dialects. I turned around, some of the student's faces being blocked by the others who right around me were forming this clumped group of people facing each other. They knew class was not about to start too soon, and took advantage of the opportunity to speak to each other. Based on the dialogue I just heard, and seeing as the two girls talking about it were behind three others in front of me, I opened with a similar question. "What kind of TV do you watch?"
The guy on my left and two of the girls on my right turned to face me, their sudden though brief silence nearly giving me a heart attack. But I made sure not to directly make eye contact with just one of the three of them. It already felt weird to ask that question without introducing myself, but it would have been just as weird to interrupt them just to do that! Cornered, this is my only option, to be uncertain about who specifically I was talking to, so that one or all of them may respond.
"Ah, just whatever is on Cartoon Network or MTV. What about you?"
A typical response for a typical question. I'm fairly bored just to ask, but it's not like I can think of anything else to say. I pretty much associate myself with the same channels whenever I can, though there is one unique exception. "Same. Oh, but GSN is good too; you know, where they show all of those game shows."
"Game shows?" Her sharp and concerned voice did not belong to any of the three currently paying any attention to me. Instead, someone else who overheard slid her chair over and sank her attention forward into whatever mystery was happening over here.
My face panned up slightly, studying the new face who was taller than me by at least one inch. With dark and short cut hair, this classmate totally just cut away from her own friends in the back to hear me correct. But in doing so, I could feel myself sweating, nearly paralyzed with fear over how she might judge me. The way she asked didn't sound like my answer would have been invited based on the tone she used, but then she already had a fairly loud voice. With total uncertainty, I simply confirmed my own answer, trying to make something weird sound cool. "Game shows. You see all kinds of interesting things happen on those shows." My conversation wasn't empty drivel either. Growing up, I mastered my understanding of all the best GSN game shows, the old and the new.
Without openly agreeing whether or not my declaration was a cool or lame one, the girl held out her hand briefly, signaling a handshake, which I luckily had no difficulty with. And at last, she broke the ice a little further. "Name's Banarus. You?"
Taking a subtle deep breath to calm myself down, I returned the introduction after shaking the hand of her friendly gesture. "I'm Reed." During my own introduction, the other two from behind Banarus reset their chairs over here, with the smaller girl wearing a red jacket wrapped around her waist butting in, shoving out her hand as if it mattered not who she might accidentally hit. Having another hand to shake in front of me was surprising for sure.
"And I'm Laura, the gang leader. You're on my turf now son!"
My arm instinctively trembled from her odd language. Laura said such vulgar nonsense with an upside attitude, and some of her friends chuckled slightly at her own remark. "Right," was all I could utter out. Her speech was not meant to be taken seriously; just her way of joking and being sarcastic, but I wasn't expecting it at all, so of course I could not find it funny just yet. If anything, I felt too embarrassed for not going along with it just now. She certainly has an outgoing attitude, and it threw me for the loop.
"And this is Kaitlyn." Banarus pointed to her other friend with her curved open hands, revealing the final member of this group, another girl about the same age and height as Banaras, but with a brighter streak of hair color.
"Hi." With a voice still sharp and loud though lack as much energy as the others, Kaitlyn greeted me too.
At first, my thoughts did not latch on to the gravity of the situation. I remained normal and calmly greeted everyone here. Banarus, Laura, and Kaitlyn. Despite my initial intentions remaining platonic, I couldn't deny how cute all three of them were even at an angle. My desire to hang out with all of them thus got a significant boost because of that. Of course I thought the idea of liking a girl out of the blue let alone these three was absurd. It's absurd because I've never properly dated a girl in my life. I only confessed liking someone in the fourth grade, and I hated the way that ended. But maybe someday, I can appreciate someone's beauty in a better way.
Whether those thoughts were causing me to blush or not, my eyes suddenly locked onto Kaitlyn, while my memory kicked in and refreshed my thoughts to the reason I was suddenly fixated on her. That name, and that face... This was no coincidence. As I stared a little longer, scanning the person from top to bottom, the paradox before me was confirmed! This Kaitlyn sitting here before me, and the stranger of a classmate I met in the dream I had this morning are literally one and the same! It's not just her name or facial details; everything is exactly the same, with exception to the clothing and backpack of course.
For now, my thoughts all flooded to the subject, for my alert mind began to panic in silence while I found it impossible to take my eyes off her. Though everything in front of me was now being overshadowed mostly with the vivid memory of the dream, confirming what I just found out again. But how? How is it possible for me to meet a total stranger in a dream only to them meet that same person in real life, on the same day no less? This shouldn't be possible!
Wait, they say that it is possible for the subconscious mind to capture that much detail if I did see her before, even if it was for a brief moment... But that can't be right! Her very own name matched as well, and for a dream that vivid, there is no way this could have been the same coincidence. Not only that, but this is the only class that Kaitlyn and I share. I would have seen her in any of my other classes, and I never even came to this section of the building before today, since my schedule was messed up to begin with. There isn't any other explanation!
"Stop staring you creep!" Kaitlyn aggressively blurted her concern out, causing me to blush upon realizing my own mistake. Laura and the other guy next to him chuckled with their mouths covered, trying but failing to be polite.
I nervously turned around, embarrassed to have been caught staring point blank at someone like that, but I was just as much confused by this too. All of my thought processes from earlier were not totally allocated to this very situation. I know that I have not ever seen this chick in real life before entering this classroom, nor have I heard her name spoken. So why? How is it possible to dream about her so accurately before meeting her in person? It doesn't make any sense!
"Damn Reed. You act like you've seen a ghost." Banarus only spoke what she saw in the panicked boy, her words not too literal. Though she only made my embarrassment worse from how badly the idiot beside me was trying to conceal his laughter.
A ghost huh? Banaras isn't entirely wrong to think that. Who is this girl? Does Kaitlyn have some kind of super power to be able to invade other people's dreams without trying or meaning to? No, it can't be anything that extreme... Risking disapproval, I slid somewhat and tilted my head around again slowly so that it would not be as noticeable. I could not resist another good look at her, that part of me still in total denial. Here I thought the impossible was always impossible. But that is the same girl I dreamt of... Kaitlyn...
While my feelings of wonder dominated my mind, a small part of me also appreciated how she looked too, a vicious cycle that strengthened each of the same thought and each of the same sensation, but I was unfortunately still oblivious to the world around me. My attempt to be subtle about my observations failed on the spot. It isn't possible to stare at somebody's face for so long and have nobody notice it, especially given the angle that I had to turn myself around in my chair to do so.
Kaitlyn gave me another death stare of disapproval that shook me from my trance, coaxing me to simply turn around in my seat just as the Spanish teacher entered the classroom and prepared the beginning of the lesson. Whatever wild assumptions I strained to make about this, all I could think about now was Kaitlyn and the dream itself, alternating between each the two of them.
While uncertain of why, something was born from my obsession over the girl and the mystery behind it. My thoughts became obsessed with the possibility of the most unusual scenario of Kaitlyn invading the dreams of others, while the rest were hung up on Kaitlyn herself. What is she like? What does she do at home? What are all of her favorite hobbies? I couldn't suppress any part of my mind now, but it quickly led me to one simpler conclusion that I initially was afraid of. These feelings washing over me, they are not unfamiliar. This must have been it, the moment that I developed a crush on Kaitlyn. How badly I wanted to talk to her! How much I wanted to be with her in her presence!