go to the head of the class
After a really great weekend up in Portland, ME, hanging out with some of my very closest friends, I got back yesterday and crashed. I ate a LOT on Saturday and slept very little (3:30-7:00 is not what I would call a full night’s sleep!), so Sunday afternoon was spent napping and relaxing. I went to bed around 10:30 and woke up this morning at 7:30 (that nine hours felt gooooood), and my dream was great last night, so it was a restful sleep! There’s no denying that I’m getting older, though. There was a time in my life that four hours of sleep would have been fine. That is, sadly, no longer the case. Also, note to my future self: pizza at 1:30 am is a terrible idea. Stop it right now.
On to the dream!
I am in my high school, searching for my locker. It’s the first day of school and all the students are bustling through the halls, looking down at their schedules and hurrying to find places they aren’t sure of. After trying to open a few lockers that aren’t mine, I realize that I should go into the girls’ locker room to find it. Sure enough, my locker is there (in the dream it’s number 1022, though I’m not sure the significance). People I didn’t go to high school with, but have known since high school ended were all there, bustling about.
I look down at my own schedule to find I’m already late for my first class: banjo! My schedule goes like this: Intro to Banjo, Intro Music Theory, Wheel Throwing (Pottery), and Chorus. It’s a short schedule, so I must have early release or something wonderful like that. In my dreamworld, the first day of school is a half day wherein you meet your teachers, they give you a list of supplies for class the next day, and then you move on to the next class. I was afraid to be late to banjo but it ended up being fine. Dan Kilgour was in my class (the only other student), and he was very excited to be getting started. I apologized to the instructor because I’ve never played any stringed instrument, but he told me not to worry, and that it was called “Intro” because he didn’t expect anybody with experience to come. I felt better after that.
At the end of the day I walked back to my locker to return my schedule to its rightful place. As I’m walking down the hallway, the school changes to look like a replica of Hudson Memorial School. Just like at HMS in sixth grade, my locker is only a few paces away from Mrs. Elgart’s science room. Coming from the room I hear Brady Gerdts singing “How Great is Our God” to his class (he’s a teacher?) and I run to the locker room to find his wife, Emily. When I ask her how he’s allowed to sing the song in a public school she playfully rolls her eyes and says, “He’s singing THAT?! That’s dumb. Well, we’ll see what happens.”
As a side note, imagine if I just predicted one of Brady’s song choices for this upcoming Sunday? Other side note: why didn’t we have banjo classes in high school? And if we did, why didn’t I know about them? I took ONE art-related class in all of high school and that’s because it was required. If I could do it over, I’d definitely take more. On a more positive note: I can’t do it over again, so I should look into learning some new art things on my own!