No 7 am photo today. Why? Because I slept in until nearly 8! Once upon a time getting up around 8 am would have been early, now it’s sleeping in. Funny how that happened. I blame this week’s impending full moon (tomorrow night I believe) for my tardiness to the party this morning.
I was tired when I came home from work last night but yet I tossed and turned for most of the evening. It was likely going on 1 am before I fell into any kind of deep sleep. And then the dreams. I don’t know why Blackville School is a frequent setting for my dreams, but it is. Not the school as it today, of course, but the school as it was during my 12 years there.
I only remember bits and pieces of last night’s dream that felt like it lasted for hours and hours. The school was the setting but it wasn’t a school. It was some kind of compound. It was where we lived, worked, played … perhaps like in The Walking Dead when they made the prison their home, we had made the school ours; though I didn’t get the sense we were in the Zombie Apocalypse.
We were in the midst of something though, something dangerous, like an attack of some kind. We were aware that the place was rigged with explosives and there was a plan to escape into a safe bunker underground through a series of tunnels under the school. There was a boy, maybe 11 or 12 years old, who we really needed to protect because he was somehow going to be important to our future, like he would grow up to be our leader or our King or something.
This is just background, stuff I don’t remember seeing in the dream, but stuff I knew to be true. The part of the dream that I remember was me and someone else, maybe Stacy, maybe Jenn or Sherry, and maybe someone else entirely, but me and this someone else had run to the room that in my real life would have been Mrs. Burns Grade 2 class in the elementary open area by the main elementary school doors, bathrooms and theatre.
This room had an entrance to the tunnels. There was more than one way in and other more important types had taken the boy and escaped underground through the entrance in what used to be the sick room in the office. We had a bunch of keys , well, not a bunch, more like a small key ring with about a half dozen keys. I wasn’t confused about what key to use to lock the door behind us when we got into the classroom where the tunnel entrance was, and I wasn’t confused about which key would let us enter the tunnels. Everything was going smoothly it seemed. We were easily going to escape before the explosion.
But then a bunch of people ran into the open area. They didn’t have keys. They hadn’t already made it into the tunnels. They needed me to unlock the door so they could come with us. It seemed like hours of trying to fit the key back into the keyhole, hands shaking, whoever I was with inside fidgeting nervously and reminding me we were running out of time, we needed to get underground now. The people on the other side of the glass, pounding on it desperately, begging for help, tears streaming down their faces.
Finally I got the key into the keyhole and before I could even try to turn it, it broke into three pieces. It was the only key for that door. I couldn’t let them in. We would have to go on without them or perish with them. Time was tight and I couldn’t think of another way.
Then I woke up … feeling tired and sore and not at all well rested. I had to force myself to actually get up because I had slept later than usual and I definitely don’t want to get into the habit of doing that by sleeping half the day and then staying up too late.
I missed the sunrise but not the fog. Huge rolls of it, big banks blocked my view, limited visibility. It was fitting. I felt all fogged in, and I was all fogged in.