Thursday, May 30, 2013

VIVID DREAMS

I am walking through the hallway of a school. Around me: the hubbub of high-school and college students. I'm a teacher, I think, or someone who's there to perform.

No one stands out — it's just a throng of unfamiliar faces, the air tinted a light brown. A few dozen feet away, there is a bright light, an aura moving my way. I hear a laugh I'd recognize anywhere, a purl that makes me stand up straight.

As the glow comes closer I hear the voice. She's talking to another student, telling her about the dorms and the best places to study. When we're a few feet away we make eye contact. She looks the same, only different — lighter hair, bigger glasses.

"Hey there," I say with a small wave.

Her eyes slide away from mine. "Bite your tongue," she says, so I do.

I wake up to a sharp pain and a bitter, salty taste. I put my hand to my mouth, see the blood on my fingers. I have done what she asked of me. There is no more sleep. The clock reads 3:13.

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