I'm at school and it's lunchtime. I can tell it's lunch because of the food being shared. As far as I can tell, it's winter, cold and despite the frost I can see on the windows of the different blocks, I'm wearing a skirt. I never am a logical person in my dreams. The place I usually go with my friends (a memorial garden) is locked and instead, undeterred, we congregate next to the gates and on the built up, brick flower bed with a seat on it. There's a wall that goes to the right from the gate and then backwards to join up with one of the blocks (the maths and science block if you're interested).
At first I'm sitting on the brick seat, talking to a few friends. There's about fifty of us and we're all in groups, each person holding (on average) three conversations at once. It's rather spectacular to watch.
I get down off the seat and approach a friend. Let's call her Jessie. She wraps her arms around me, hugging me and pulling me over. We fall and her head hits the wall, blood pooling under her head. She's still alive and awake, but close to passing out. People crowd round and everyone's fussing. There's a teacher that's trained in first aid about thirty metres away, but he doesn't seem to notice or care.
I run to the administration block where the reception is to ask for a cold compress. In hindsight, I'm not sure what a cold compress would do for someone who is lying in a pool of blood. Like I said, I'm not always the most logical person in dreams.
I run down away from Jessie on the floor, around the corner, down the three steps and right towards the administration block. As I get to the pond outside of the block, my phone vibrates in my pocket. It's a text from an unknown sender warning me about thirty people who have made a bomb with laxatives (I don't even know if this is possible). It also says I should warn everyone else, because the bomb is powerful.
That's where the dream ended.
Make of it what you will...