Strange dream...
I had the weirdest dream last night...
I was in a classroom (mundanely currently housing the local Hospice charity shop in the local strip mall?). The classroom was full of 8-year-old girls, of which I was one. Thing is, it was a special ed classroom for dead girls who wanted to continue their education. There were two teachers, I think, and a couple of the more "challenging" girls also had teacher aides.
They were giggling and talking, as little girls do, and the teacher called us all to order, asking us to introduce ourselves with our name, and how and when we died. One of the little girls at the front began, and the girl next to me leaned over (all long blonde curls and blue frilly dress) and whispered, "How did you die?". I giggled, and said, "I don't know if I'm dead or not! I can't remember!"
Then the dream blurred a bit, and ended up with us all scooching out on recess, and I wound up in the second-hand book shop that used to be in the "classroom" a few years ago, before it was the Hospice shop. I was browsing the books, and came across a picture book of The Berenstein Bears learning about their Aunt and Uncle during WWII London. (Ooookay...)
Then I went back to class, sat on the mat in our circle, and the teacher asked what I'd done with my homework during recess. I had to improvise on the fly, because I hadn't done it, and I think I had to admit as much. But the teacher didn't do anything more than give me a gentle rebuke and a warning to work within protocol next time.
And... then I woke up. The songs in my head (nearly typed "dead", what a typo) kept cycling between "Mr Meadowlark" by Bing Crosby and Gary Crosby, one of Garth Brooks' songs I can't place, and "Living Dead Girl" by Rob Zombie. Guess which one of those I wasn't listening to within the last 24 hours...
I was in a classroom (mundanely currently housing the local Hospice charity shop in the local strip mall?). The classroom was full of 8-year-old girls, of which I was one. Thing is, it was a special ed classroom for dead girls who wanted to continue their education. There were two teachers, I think, and a couple of the more "challenging" girls also had teacher aides.
They were giggling and talking, as little girls do, and the teacher called us all to order, asking us to introduce ourselves with our name, and how and when we died. One of the little girls at the front began, and the girl next to me leaned over (all long blonde curls and blue frilly dress) and whispered, "How did you die?". I giggled, and said, "I don't know if I'm dead or not! I can't remember!"
Then the dream blurred a bit, and ended up with us all scooching out on recess, and I wound up in the second-hand book shop that used to be in the "classroom" a few years ago, before it was the Hospice shop. I was browsing the books, and came across a picture book of The Berenstein Bears learning about their Aunt and Uncle during WWII London. (Ooookay...)
Then I went back to class, sat on the mat in our circle, and the teacher asked what I'd done with my homework during recess. I had to improvise on the fly, because I hadn't done it, and I think I had to admit as much. But the teacher didn't do anything more than give me a gentle rebuke and a warning to work within protocol next time.
And... then I woke up. The songs in my head (nearly typed "dead", what a typo) kept cycling between "Mr Meadowlark" by Bing Crosby and Gary Crosby, one of Garth Brooks' songs I can't place, and "Living Dead Girl" by Rob Zombie. Guess which one of those I wasn't listening to within the last 24 hours...