After returning from a smashing kidnapping event to celebrate my thirtieth year in Lake George, NY two Sundays ago, courtesy of myjellybellys, pinkimoon (in spirit), judgestin, cucumberlove, henryalmighty, and Vivian, I was unusually exhausted and looking forward to a peaceful slumber.
Of course, my return to the blogosphere would not be complete without a recounting of a strange (but *very* vivid) dream I had that night. I also have a sudden desire to write again, as it’s been ages since I’ve written anything not for work.
Any names mentioned below represent actual people that I’ve known at some point in my life, though they have been changed in the interest of anonymity.
As I strolled along the lush landscape of a location unbeknownst to me at the time, I noticed that the day was blessed with perfection. Although the sun was profoundly blanketing the cloudless blue sky, it was at the same time gentle; I did not feel the oppressive heat and humidity that is often characteristic of a summer day in the New York City metropolitan area.
After a few minutes of leisurely walking, I noticed the front of a very familiar building, the high school I went to growing up.
Immediately, my thoughts turned to the class I had to get to, though the streams of subconsciousness flowing in my head did not reveal which class it was. Travelling from class to class, I pondered, was sometimes a daunting task. As students, we always complained about the architectural layout of our school. Most schools at the secondary level are normally housed in buildings of at least two stories. My high school, however, was composed of ten single-story “buildings,” most of which were interconnected. It could take as long as five minutes or more to travel from one class to another, depending on student traffic in the hallways.
I entered the school, expecting to see a deluge of students flooding the hallways. Yet the hallways were completely deserted, even devoid of the sometimes pesky hall monitors. I stepped into a classroom, which was also empty with one single exception. Karina was sitting a few feet from the classroom entrance behind a large, elementary school style desk, scribbling something nondescript on a sheet of white paper with a wood pencil. She had placed a similar desk against the front of her own, presumably so I would be able to sit facing her. She’s always been so thoughtful, I said to myself.
I was a bit surprised, however, as I subconsciously thought of the conscious world. Karina attended high school several miles away from where I grew up, and in reality, we were first acquainted well after my high school and college days. It doesn’t matter, I thought as I sat down, flashing a timid smile at her. She smiled back accordingly, but we did not exchange any words. The understanding we had of each other seemed to be enough at the time, and we both knew that we had work to finish before the next class.
With that, I took out a sheet of paper from my backpack and likewise began to scribble nonsensically. I don’t know why I was rushing to get to a study hall, I thought, chuckling to myself after realizing that I knew exactly why.
After a few minutes, a bell rang, and while the sound of rustling no doubt dominated the halls, I heard only deafening silence. I instinctively elevated my head until my eyes were able to catch a small glimpse of her lowered head. I surmised at that moment that Karina heard the same silence, since her eyes seemed to detect my ever so slight movement as she delicately lifted her head in the same fashion.
I froze for a moment, unsure of the next logical step. In a fit of sudden animation, my head, still lowered somewhat, seemed to have a mind of its own as it advanced toward hers. Karina’s head, in an almost perfectly symmetric angle in relation to mine, instantaneously followed suit in her trademark, subtle manner.
I was not sure whether either of us knew where our heads were going, so they simply continued advancing towards each other.
And then it happened.
No, we did not kiss each other, not with our lips, at least.
Our foreheads collided, ever so gently, and we held that position for about five seconds.
As our heads gradually drifted away, my eyes caught Karina smiling demurely as she began to stand up. I likewise returned her smile and waved, watching her walk towards the back of the classroom where there were already students crowding the desks.
I departed the room with the encounter ingrained in my mind. Originally, I thought that I had a class to attend after the study hall session, but I had realized at this point that the school day was suddenly over. Of course, that would be nonsensical in reality, but I suppose this dream world did not have a solid concept of time.
Unlike the real world, in this subconscious world, I was without a car. How am I going to get home, I asked myself.
Strolling outside once again, the sunshine once again calmed my slightly confused nerves. I remembered the infamous activity buses for students who elected to stay after school for extracurricular activities. These buses were parked daily somewhere in front of the building…
I awoke with a start, remembering exactly what I had dreamt. Nearly two weeks later, I still have a vivid picture of Karina and me touching foreheads ingrained in my head. Of course, I don’t understand at all what it means, but I suppose dreams wouldn’t be what they are without their element of mystery.