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I was offered a ride to school with four other students. My dad was driving. He drove straight over the railroad tracks without even slightly stopping. Everyone, supposedly Driver's Ed students or just caring individuals, was enraged by this. My dad said that it's stupid to stop there because there is no way that a train is going to pass through there. I told him it does though and he acted like a moron about it.
We pull into the parking lot, which is now located where my school's basketball court used to be. It's still dark out so I ask what time it is, an administrator with an old pocket watch turns to me and says, "44" (6:44, I guess).I walk towards my school, which was one building--not like my school that is laid out like a college. I'm climbing the stairs which lead to the senior hall where the library is. The librarian out front scowls at me and says I can't be there because I'd just be trouble. Since the library isn't open yet. I feel awful that she thinks I'm that kind of person, when usually librarians smile at me with open arms. So I sit down on the stairs. A little girl comes down the staircase to a display of books which are by me. Things like Arthur books, A Wrinkle in Time, and Catcher in the Rye. I pick up a book, deciding I will read it later, and begin to tie my shoes. The librarian sees me, comes down the stairs and begins yelling at me for being there. I try to explain to her that I'm just tying my shoes, but why would she believe this. I feel awful the way everyone is treating me, yelling at me when I did nothing wrong. And being the sensitive soul that I am, I started to cry. She yelled at me for this too. I looked up and I said, "I feel like Holden Caulfield when he was crossing the road and he felt like he was disappearing." Her face lighted up. "Oh, so you had to read it for school." "No, I read it in my free time when I was in the 8th grade. It's my favorite book. I've read it at least 25 times since then." She didn't believe this. She was conjuring in her head a test to prove this. But it was too late for that. She began to discuss elements of the story that she enjoyed, and the only real one I can remember was how she thought that from the beginning it was written all over the page, the end of the story: DEFEAT. I wasn't arguing with this because I hated her interpretation. She just sounded like one of those people who reads to get some sad human moral out of it, not for what she feels it means.
I left and I found myself at a road crossing the street. I looked around and saw only a car far away coming, so I began to walk. Another man came, one with prosthetic legs. Before he crossed, he dropped his prosthetic legs and ran like I have never seen a man run. I had just made it to the pavement when I woke up.