The Dream Assignment

School is a blur. All I can think about is my dream and the old woman. Where had she gone? What was she doing right now?

I shake my head, trying to clear my mind. It's a dream! She's not doing anything right now, because she doesn't exist.

But it was so real!

As I sit at my desk, waiting for the last bell to ring, I look around me for the first time. It's way more quiet than I would have expected. Every desk contains a student, and every student bent over a paper. I look up to the board...

Oh... A writing assigment.

I pull out a note book and look at the directions again. Write about the most memorable dream you've had.

I think hard for a moment, but I  can't think of anything... Of course, thinking never works.

So I just start. I write blindly, lettting my hand do what it willed.

When I finish, I am surprised with myself... I reread it.

Hanging in suspense is a terrible thing... Especially if you're waiting for something that may never come. You know those dreams where it ends suddenly, and you have to wait for the next night to come before you can find out what happens to you? That's the kind I'm talking about. The ones that make you wait, that are so real that when you wake up, it takes you a moment to figure out where you are. Those are the good kinds.

So, I'm running through a jungle, and something or someone is chasing me. I'm tripping over roots, jumping over ferns, getting slapped in the face by branches. I come to the end of a well-beaten path. I look around, see it continueing to my right, run that way. I'm in a flowing green skirt that billows out behind me as I run. I slow down, coming close to an open field. I stop several yards away from the edge. I'm afraid to move on, realizing that it would be too easy to get away, too easy to be captured out in the open--at least in the jungle I have cover and blend in. I wait it out, making sure the coast is clear. I step into the field.

I've barely taken a step when something stabs me in the back, and I fall to the ground, lying helpless and vulnerable.

The dream ends. The suspense kills me during the day. The next night, I'm only too ready to fall asleep and get on with my dream.

So on and so on... I explain about the odd Indian woman, and how I'm waiting to sleep tonight for the next part of the dream.

The bell rings, and everyone stands up quickly, rushing for the door and leaving their paper on the counter beside it. I'm last. I set my paper down carefully, and walk out of the door, not bothering with my locker and heading for the doors.

The End

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