She shakes me awake. No classes on
Friday, not for me, but she's got an 8:10.
Expository writing, or "expos" as it's called. The dream slips away; I try to get a few words down in
notepad before my brain finishes
booting up (and, in the process, overwriting the
random noise of the dream with more
structured data.
-
-
brick wall falling down
Proventil tube
retainer came out
It wasn't intended to be haiku. It's not, I realize, but it'll do for a 3rd-grade teacher who expects no more than syllabic conformity.
I'm running away from some Disneyesque scene, accosting random strangers on line for rides and asking them where the rainbows are; they keep telling me that they've all been used up. I donned a Mickey Mouse outfit and was swimming across the EPCOT lagoon. I heard a loud rumbling, and screamed as a brick wall fell on me.
The lawn in back of my house. I'm watching myself walk in circles, using a Proventil inhaler. This goes on for what seems like hours, until suddenly I (observed) stop short. I (observer) smile, and take my retainer out. (This is quite odd. I've never worn a retainer, as far as I know.)
... and then I woke up