Dream; Past
I slept long and restlessly last night, and had quite a few dreams, but one has mainly stuck with me. It’s been a long while since I woke up, but I’ll do the best I can in transcribing it as I remember it.
The first thing I can recall is reading through some hefty legal documents, outlining charges, sentences, and other such details. Someone has done a lot of bad things in their lifetime. I can tell the person subject to these documents is only young, and two of the charges include two murders committed in the US but to be served here concurrent with the other imprisonment terms; but the document is complex, and I don’t understand a lot of it. Then, I realise the person is me. I’m 16, and I have this amazing, unknown, inexplicable past which includes the murders of two people on the other side of the world. As overwhelming as all this seems, it just seems natural and I accept it. There is a complete lack of responsibility within me, and an attitude of “so what?” towards everything - everything is out of my hands now, being played out by adults with job titles who couldn’t care to ask me how I feel or what I think, so I just go along with whatever.
I feel incredibly bored and unmotivated. I’m in a school uniform. Apparently after spending so much time in incarceration, I’m to have “rehabilitation therapy”, which includes some hours of normal schooling. I’m a little frightened by this prospect, as I’m not used to socialising, crowds, or even people of my own age group. I’m to catch a school bus, by myself, which will take me to the school. I leave the building, an austere, light brown brick building from the 70s, devoid of plants, decoration or personality, with a security entrance and bars over the windows of the reception area. I make my way to the bus stop. A few other girls are there, they are younger than me, but smile and chatter, and are warm and open towards me. Apparently they know who I am. They tell me they’re going to help me. I’m not sure what to do, and I say thanks. My face can’t seem to work out how to smile, and I’m not sure I want to anyway, as I’m worried what these girls might do to me; there is no reason to suspect them of anything, but distrust is ingrained and i can think of many scenarios in which they turn on me somehow. The bus comes, and there are very few seats, as it’s mostly standing room - it is filled with girls in the same uniform as me, standing and holding onto the handrails inside the bus. I’m led in by the younger girls, who make their way towards another girl, a friend of theirs they haven’t seen for a whole weekend and squeal with gossip and excitement. Another girl, about my age, comes up and chats to me as if she knows me but hasn’t seen me for a long time, tells me how good it is to see me again and how everyone is looking forward to seeing me again. I don’t recognise her or know her name, but she obviously knows me somehow. I begin to get more anxious (though I try and hide it), and want to go back to my cell. This girl is stocky, with a round face and sparse, small freckles, short brown hair tied into two ponytails which stick out the back of her head. Her large, smiling mouth reveals braces. I manage a nervous smile and ask what happens now? The bus keeps going, picking up more passengers, more school girls, and I look out the window at the suburbs passing by with tree-lined streets, houses with gardens, cars driving on the road, cars parked at the side of the road, people walking their dogs, and it all seems very strange and new - I know what these things are, I know what they are called, but they seem very unfamiliar, as if seeing them for the first time in the flesh. I listen to the girl talking to me with half an ear, and my mind wonders.
Eventually, we get to a stop on a main street, a large shopping strip, busy with people buying groceries, newspapers, and cafés with people having cups of coffee. Again, I feel overwhelmed, there seems to be so many people, so many different people, too many individuals. The girl with the pigtails tells me we have to change buses here, and I see three more buses lined up near where ours has stopped. These buses have seats, and I sit next to the girl. We don’t have far to go before these buses pull up to the school grounds. The school is large, or, at least, seems large to me. It is filled with girls, all in the same uniform, some standing in groups talking, others, younger, running around and screaming and shrieking. I hesitate for a while, but the girl leads me in, and a small group of about five others come up, and exchange hellos. They are all very pleased to see me, but I still don’t know any of them. We start walking together towards the school buildings - the front of the school consists of two ovals and a treed area, and a long path from the gates to the buildings. We walks slowly, and the girls talk around me, and I deflect any questions asked of me as best I can. My insides are starting to sink, I’m really scared. I realise I’ve never been to a high school class before, I don’t know what to do, I don’t have any text books, I don’t even know what is supposed to happen in a class. I freeze inside, but keep walking, keep expressionless on the outside as we slowly walk past crowds up to the school buildings . . .
The first thing I can recall is reading through some hefty legal documents, outlining charges, sentences, and other such details. Someone has done a lot of bad things in their lifetime. I can tell the person subject to these documents is only young, and two of the charges include two murders committed in the US but to be served here concurrent with the other imprisonment terms; but the document is complex, and I don’t understand a lot of it. Then, I realise the person is me. I’m 16, and I have this amazing, unknown, inexplicable past which includes the murders of two people on the other side of the world. As overwhelming as all this seems, it just seems natural and I accept it. There is a complete lack of responsibility within me, and an attitude of “so what?” towards everything - everything is out of my hands now, being played out by adults with job titles who couldn’t care to ask me how I feel or what I think, so I just go along with whatever.
I feel incredibly bored and unmotivated. I’m in a school uniform. Apparently after spending so much time in incarceration, I’m to have “rehabilitation therapy”, which includes some hours of normal schooling. I’m a little frightened by this prospect, as I’m not used to socialising, crowds, or even people of my own age group. I’m to catch a school bus, by myself, which will take me to the school. I leave the building, an austere, light brown brick building from the 70s, devoid of plants, decoration or personality, with a security entrance and bars over the windows of the reception area. I make my way to the bus stop. A few other girls are there, they are younger than me, but smile and chatter, and are warm and open towards me. Apparently they know who I am. They tell me they’re going to help me. I’m not sure what to do, and I say thanks. My face can’t seem to work out how to smile, and I’m not sure I want to anyway, as I’m worried what these girls might do to me; there is no reason to suspect them of anything, but distrust is ingrained and i can think of many scenarios in which they turn on me somehow. The bus comes, and there are very few seats, as it’s mostly standing room - it is filled with girls in the same uniform as me, standing and holding onto the handrails inside the bus. I’m led in by the younger girls, who make their way towards another girl, a friend of theirs they haven’t seen for a whole weekend and squeal with gossip and excitement. Another girl, about my age, comes up and chats to me as if she knows me but hasn’t seen me for a long time, tells me how good it is to see me again and how everyone is looking forward to seeing me again. I don’t recognise her or know her name, but she obviously knows me somehow. I begin to get more anxious (though I try and hide it), and want to go back to my cell. This girl is stocky, with a round face and sparse, small freckles, short brown hair tied into two ponytails which stick out the back of her head. Her large, smiling mouth reveals braces. I manage a nervous smile and ask what happens now? The bus keeps going, picking up more passengers, more school girls, and I look out the window at the suburbs passing by with tree-lined streets, houses with gardens, cars driving on the road, cars parked at the side of the road, people walking their dogs, and it all seems very strange and new - I know what these things are, I know what they are called, but they seem very unfamiliar, as if seeing them for the first time in the flesh. I listen to the girl talking to me with half an ear, and my mind wonders.
Eventually, we get to a stop on a main street, a large shopping strip, busy with people buying groceries, newspapers, and cafés with people having cups of coffee. Again, I feel overwhelmed, there seems to be so many people, so many different people, too many individuals. The girl with the pigtails tells me we have to change buses here, and I see three more buses lined up near where ours has stopped. These buses have seats, and I sit next to the girl. We don’t have far to go before these buses pull up to the school grounds. The school is large, or, at least, seems large to me. It is filled with girls, all in the same uniform, some standing in groups talking, others, younger, running around and screaming and shrieking. I hesitate for a while, but the girl leads me in, and a small group of about five others come up, and exchange hellos. They are all very pleased to see me, but I still don’t know any of them. We start walking together towards the school buildings - the front of the school consists of two ovals and a treed area, and a long path from the gates to the buildings. We walks slowly, and the girls talk around me, and I deflect any questions asked of me as best I can. My insides are starting to sink, I’m really scared. I realise I’ve never been to a high school class before, I don’t know what to do, I don’t have any text books, I don’t even know what is supposed to happen in a class. I freeze inside, but keep walking, keep expressionless on the outside as we slowly walk past crowds up to the school buildings . . .