I dream that I have to go through a series of trials for school, but none of the kids want to partner with me, so I end up competing with my mom. She’s not putting any effort into it and I’m afraid we’re going to come last. The first trial consists in melting down wax bars into disks, then piling them until there’s enough weight to push a button and open a door. I explain to my mom how to do it, she refuses to follow the instructions.
When we finally escape the door, we find a girl (one of my elementary schoolmates) looking at us with pity. She already passed all the trials, she says, and there’s no way we can make it, we’re just too *provincial*. We exit the building and find ourselves in Singapore. We need to find a bookstore and buy a certain book, I open Google Maps on my phone…
I dream that it’s the last day of school, as usual it’s a Saturday and, as usual, I’m planning to quit before graduation. But why not hang out in the classroom for one more day?
Dear old philosophy teacher hands out exam sheets. Everybody is panicking except me, I haven’t studied but who cares? My friend M., worried about me, shows me her sheet, I copy it lazily making sure to add some mistakes.
The exam is divided in two parts, “boy” and “girl”. The teacher takes away the “boy” sheet as soon as it’s finished, to grade it. I tackle the “girl” sheet and I’m amazed to realize the questions are about web design and so I can answer most of them. The teacher brings back the first sheet, graded 80/100. He compliments me.
I’m a bit proud of myself now, I really want to finish the second sheet, but my alarm rings.
I dream that I open a bookstore with two old schoolmates, M. and C. We only sell books about the Middle Ages so it’s not very successful. We’re going home one night when we see our rival bookstore has displayed animals (some sort of white monkeys) and toddlers in their storefront window. I don’t know if the toddlers are alive or just dolls, they move like real children but they look fake, they all have an identical bowl cut and their faces are covered in thin white fur. I pick one up and it’s drooling all over me, I clean its mouth.
We are now late, we rush to the train stop (it’s like a tram stop but for trains!) and barely miss our ride. We have no choice but to call a cab; a big, fancy orange car appears to pick us up, I cannot sit in the back with my friends because them are the rules, I have to climb into the trunk, it’s not pleasant. The cab driver is speaking in a foreign language on his phone, the only words I understand are “Angela Merkel”. The road to town is made of white marble and almost vertical, I’m terrified we won’t make it and when we reach the top I jump out the trunk. I tell my friends I’ll pay them back my fare tomorrow, they yell back it’s gonna be 15 bucks. As I run away I see them take one calculator each as they start checking if the cab fare is right. I marvel at how they can still do math after all these years.
I dream that I’m in a classroom where the desks are arranged in a circle, because it’s safer against Covid. The teacher calls my name, he asks me a medicine question, I cheerfully inform him that I didn’t study shit and he can go ahead and fail me. My old friend M. looks at me, half impressed and half outraged. She asks what the hell was I thinking, I explain that I am an adult with a job now, and who cares about grades when you can get a paycheck instead?
I dream over and over again that I’m telling Boss Lady over the phone that I can’t possibly go to work in the morning, I could be contagious, I have an upset stomach, and hear how sore my throat is! (I’m faking it).
(I suck it up and go to work in the morning.)
I dream that I’m sitting in my old classroom next to M. the runner. As usual I don’t have any notebooks or pens with me. I confess to M. that I haven’t been able to follow a math lesson in years, I cannot understand it and I’ve stopped trying.
A new teacher shows up: she has red hair and a red beard, she’s wearing glasses, a white blouse with colorful umbrella prints and a rainbow skirt. On her arm, a rainbow umbrella. I observe every detail so later I can describe her to my penpal.
Her name is Fruddi and she’s our new sci-fi teacher. There’s something unsettling about her.
She writes a poem on the blackboard in her very neat handwriting. I’m sitting front row resting my chin on my hands, looking bored. She demands why I’m not copying the poem down, I say what’s the point? I’ll google it at home. She rants and rave about today’s lazy youth, I tell her, deadpan,
I am smart and I am confident and you won’t judge me.
She looks at me pensively. She knew a boy once, she says, who was so lazy. He was so lazy he never found a job and stayed home with his momma. This makes me angry, I walk straight to her face and hiss,
Or maybe he was severely depressed.
Fruddi looks dumbstruck. Come with me, she says. She leads me to the school graveyard, old tombstones and overgrown greenery. It looks so pretty I wish I had a camera with me.
Fruddi leads me to her family chapel, where a mummy lays on the stone. This is my boy, she says, taking the body in her arms. I’m so scared and she’s distracted, so I run back to the classroom, but the other kids have left.
I track them to the gym. The boys are playing soccer with famous footballer Christian Vieri. The girls are sitting in a low pool, looking adorable in matching swimsuits and caps. I run to them and relay my scary mummy story. They all console me.
It’s raining as I walk home from high school. I’m wearing bell bottom jeansand (just like during my actual high school days!) the hems got all wet and muddy. Chatting along with me there’s my old classmate M., a bony girl with freckles and bovine eyes; she can’t believe we are already seniors and our school days are almost over, do I know what I’m gonna do next? Yes, I’m gonna apply to [IRL store I work at] and, I brag, I’ll have to work until 7:30 P.M. She says she’s gonna get off even later and I’m jealous, she’s always been smarter than me!
After lunch I get restless, I’m already late for my old philosophy teacher’s class, why do I always miss it? What if he never lets me graduate?! I go to pee on the balcony (it’s raining and everything is already wet so, I figure, why not?) and run off, but halfway to the school I once again remember that I’m an adult with a job and I don’t have to worry about graduating anymore.
I decide to go shopping with Gran instead. As usual, there’s too many people inside the supermarket and nobody is wearing a mask, I’m really concerned about Gran’s safety, so I drag her outside as it starts drizzling again. She’s carrying a plastic bag with a pink pullover inside, there is no place to store it though, so she hangs it from a branch that’s leafless and skeletal against the gray sky. I’m afraid somebody is gonna steal the bag and when she’s not looking I take it and bring it home, for safekeeping.
I’m with my siblings at a strange woman’s house. She’s maybe a friend of Gran’s, or a relative? I’m reading a shonen manga, a super long series that is never gonna end. We collect flowers from around the apartment for the woman’s dead husband, then we go down a narrow spiral staircase to leave the building. I’m not wearing any socks.
Walking home I come across an old schoolmate, M., who used to be a runner. I haven’t seen her in 15 years but she’s still running with a group of friends. I show her my fitness bracelet and say I’m also exercising, but we both know it’s a lie. We have stopped near a farm, there are cats and mice and a black and white horse behind a fence.
Three high school kids walk past us: they are the classic mean girls, very trendy and with heavy make up. They mock me as they walk by. I yell back that they are ugly, but realize it’s a lame retort: so I grab two of them, obviously the two sidekicks walking one step behind their queen bee, and force them to walk with me for a while instead. I improv a funny story about Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden.
…and then God said, “What the f**k?!”
They are laughing at my story, and hopefully they will have a better opinion of me now. I let them go.
It’s Autumn, and I have my high school Nokia with me instead of a new smartphone. I try to take pictures and they are surprisingly good quality. Then I realize somebody is following me: it’s a kid, fourteen or so, thin with blond hair and glasses. He’s a stalker in love with me. I take pictures of him following me and yell that I’m gonna call the police. He doesn’t care, follows me all the way back home. I call for my dad to come beat him up.
DECADE DREAM JOURNAL 