Sing a Song of Sweet Dreams
May. 31st, 2001 11:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
azuritePresent Tense Note: This entry was originally split into 3 parts on FreeOpenDiary. But because of the wonder of lengthier entries and LJ-cuts, the entry will be presented in its entirety here.
The rant/bitch entry I was going to write completely slipped out of my mind...
Actually, this is a double entry. First off, the "sing a song" part is because I found out I got into Advanced Choir (Show Choir) today! ^^ I'm so happy... because despite my complete lack of modesty, I was nervous as heck at the auditions, and was so afraid I wouldn't make it. Like the teacher might find out that I got accepted into Intermediate without any kind of a tryout (so sue me, I have a nice counselor). ^^ But no... I got in! Yay!
The second part is about Dreams. Yeah, you know, the vivid mental movies you get when you are asleep, or not paying attention. Well, I know dreams are supposed to MEAN things, but when you have an overactive writer's imagination like I do, dreams can be rather mysterious and jumbled.
Take, for example, this one. I had it in ninth grade... when I was crushing on that upperclassman...
The setting is the soda room, between the basement and the rest of the ROTC room. The poorly painted walls (in shades of hospital gown blue and off-white) are scattered with army posters and information, and two soda machines glimmer with their luminescence-- a Fruitopia machine and a Sprite machine.
I look around, bewildered to find myself here. It is relatively dark-- the door to the classroom being closed and locked tight. No other people are around. There is only one light on in the basement hallway. It seems late.
Then, as if I am not the one there, I reach into my pocket, sure of what I am doing, yet not knowing what.
I pull out a ring-- the cheap kind made to look like gold (but they actually look like brass) with a plastic charm in the shape of a sparkly orange heart.
Without a second thought, I stuff the ring into the coin slot of the Sprite machine. The machine seems to glow brighter for a minute, and then the world around me is dark, and is being pulled away from me like it is taffy.
When I look up again, the room -and the basement outside-is light. The door to the class is open, and one can easily see the trophy cases, staff area, and bulletin boards scattered about the formerly wide open area.
I walk inside, unsure of what just happened, knowing only that I am now in control of my own body. The ring is gone.
It seems as though it is late morning -just before lunch-and the class is being dismissed. They are sitting and talking, while an obviously older person shuffles some papers and makes a few comments to two people beside her.
She then leans back and shouts "Company, Atten-hua!" Suddenly, everything clicks. Not completely-- it's like having a large chunk of the puzzle, but not the whole thing. I know that accent. It gets stuck in people's memories, and it reminds me of...
Instantly, my eyes wander to where I normally sit. Standing off to the left of the standard school desk, orange seat and all, is a tall, young man, with head of naturally-spiky hair. Sort of like a long crew cut. I recognize him instantly...
My crush... only... 15. *MY* age. I mouth three little words as the class walks toward me: "Oh. My. God."
Of all the people in the class, only he seems to notice me, as he wanders up to me with a raised eyebrow and a perplexed expression on his handsome face. He was even more gorgeous younger. With thicker hair, a more obvious build, not so concealed by baggy clothes, and even more puppyish brown eyes, the color of shelled almonds, he was drop dead handsome.
"Do we know each other?" He asks me. Blunt, brutal. I smile, mentally giving him credit for that. I must look so out of place, I think, but everyone passes by me without a thought. There are quite a lot of people-- 40, I think, or something close to it. I glance into the office, and am amused to see the Colonel and the Sergeant Major --looking much younger, and still wearing those blasted green uniforms.
One could almost make out streaks of a brownish-blonde in the Colonel's graying hair, and the Sergeant Major has bushier, curlier hair, even on his mustache.
They look up, but don't recognize me.
Suddenly, time seems to slap me in the face, and everyone in the class is gone but me and my crush. Jake.
"Uhm, no... I don't think so." But he doesn't seem to simply accept this and walk away to lunch.
"Uhm... I'm Jason." He introduces himself, without a handshake, but I smile at him anyway. It doesn't matter. I already know more about him than he'll ever know.
"Meredith." I try my best to smile winningly at him, and it seems to work, because he blushes a bit. Inside, I'm doing a happy jig and dancing to Hamsterdance.
"I'll, uh... walk you to your 7th period, Meredith." Jason doesn't meet my gaze, but I smile anyway. Well, if my face gets stuck with a smile on it and he's with me, who cares?
It isn't until we reach the 2nd floor that I realize that it *is* 1996. My 7th period isn't really here... my teacher isn't even IN this class.
"Uh... I'll meet you here after school!" Jason says in a hurry, having mentioned something about CSP (class cleanup) on our way upstairs. He then rushes off, leaving me smiling.
A security guard glares at me, and I edge into the classroom with a sheepish smile on my face.
I notice with a grin that my favorite teacher (that I had met when my sister brought me to highschool on my off days) was here. Mr. Martin.
"Meredith? What are you doing here? You're so tall!" That was true. The last time he saw me, I was 10.
1996. The year my sister died. This year I had dubbed as 'The Year Of Hell' even though my torment only lasted through summer. I still had time, didn't I? If that was what I was truly here for... not just for my own selfish reasons? I didn't know. But I could do nothing now, nothing by live in the moment.
"Uhm, yeah. Growth spurt. Long story." I say briefly. His class in engaged in some rather boring work for art. Being a chem teacher, his ideas of art aren't very broad.
"Mr. M, why don't you..." And I prattle off some suggestions from my old -er, future- teacher to make the class more exciting. The class takes to them rapidly, and sooner than I realize, the class is over.
I've made new friends, though I doubt I'll ever see them again. Unless by some long shot, I manage to go back to my time, not affect it enough to change anything too serious, and they'd remember me when they were seniors. Weird. Time paradoxes never made sense to me, and that was why they fascinated me. But that's another story; I'm babbling.
So before I knew it, I was the last one in the class besides Mr. M, and then someone tapped me on the shoulder. Jason stood behind me, smiling.
"I thought you had CSP?" I asked him, gathering my things. I had things? I guess I had my backpack and other school-essentials, but nothing else.
"I do. Come on." Maybe I gave off some good energy or whatnot, because he smiled and grabbed my arm as we ran downstairs.
I helped out with the CSP, and then we parted ways outside the main entrance.
Somehow, I went home. That was it, I went home. My house was my house, yet not my house. I mean, I was in a time where I was supposed to be 11 years old, and my sister was still alive. But it was as empty as it usually was when I got home -alone- when I was 15.
Sorry for the tense change, people, but it helps to speed things along. ^^;
Things were in and out of time-- things that I had not owned when I was 11 were there, and things that I hadn't seen for years were there. My room was actually my sister's room, but not.
I managed to survive what seemed like a week... and then, before I knew it, Jason asked me to the boat dance.
I had sworn off dances after my 8th grade dinner dance, but the fact that *he* asked me completely changed my mind. I recalled something my friend Eve had told me to reassure me when I had been doubting every possibility of Jason ever liking me -in my time, when he was 4 years older than me- "Maybe he'll ask you to the Boat Dance, or Prom." Well, Prom was a bit far-fetched, but...
Then, I had a dress. It was a dress I had when I was 15, but not 11. Sneaking into 'my' room was hard enough, but avoiding my mom, my sister, or worse, MYSELF... well, that'd be a might difficult if this had actually happened.
We went to the dance... oh, it was bliss. I didn't get motion sick. (Not that I normally do, but I wish I had in an odd sense) Then, the boat was swaying -just a bit- and the night was clear and cool. May in San Francisco, and it was blissfully perfect.
Then, with each star glistening brighter, I knew there was something wrong.
The next thing I knew, I was in a hallway... like those in a restaurant, between the kitchen and the bathrooms. The bathrooms were to my left, the 'stage' to my right. Other couples were pressed against the walls, either seasick or enjoying the 'romanticness' of a boat rocking back and forth.
Meanwhile, Jason and I were a mite uncomfortable. I supposed giving how much I knew about him, we got along fine, and he was younger, and just was more likable. And easier to like others, whatever that means.
But I was suddenly feeling queasy, but it wasn't because of the ship's rocking. Or the lights swaying, the punch bowl tilting...
The world was becoming a mass of color, a mass of lines and people that were no more than blurs. The world was being pulled away from me again.
Why me, Lord, I asked, Why now? I had a chance, maybe to be a bit selfish for once, (though people would probably say I usually was...) and maybe even rectify the mistakes time had made. But wasn't it the Priest at my sister's funeral that had, in the first place, said that He had chosen her to come with him now, to be with her father, and the rest of her family? That I couldn't change? I was never a big believer in almighties and that kind of thing-- I do believe each person sets their own fate, despite the fact that maybe there is such a thing as divine intervention, and holy powers. Maybe even someone who watches over time and fate, but doesn't interfere.
Jason's voice was echoing in and out of my hearing, like chimes and steel drums at the same time... past the loud sound of blood rushing in my ears. God, it hurt now... it was dizzying, just to stand up.
I have to go, I told him, and I knew I was crying.
Why? No... He protested, though I think he knew better.
I... I want you to know...
It was like a soap opera, and you knew what was coming next, but like the time in the soda room, it was out of my control.
I mouthed to him my true feelings, my thoughts, my selfish desire. Then the world was pulled away from me, and I saw the light of the soda room.
At that millisecond, I woke up.
A dream is a funny thing, isn't it?
The rant/bitch entry I was going to write completely slipped out of my mind...
Actually, this is a double entry. First off, the "sing a song" part is because I found out I got into Advanced Choir (Show Choir) today! ^^ I'm so happy... because despite my complete lack of modesty, I was nervous as heck at the auditions, and was so afraid I wouldn't make it. Like the teacher might find out that I got accepted into Intermediate without any kind of a tryout (so sue me, I have a nice counselor). ^^ But no... I got in! Yay!
The second part is about Dreams. Yeah, you know, the vivid mental movies you get when you are asleep, or not paying attention. Well, I know dreams are supposed to MEAN things, but when you have an overactive writer's imagination like I do, dreams can be rather mysterious and jumbled.
Take, for example, this one. I had it in ninth grade... when I was crushing on that upperclassman...
The setting is the soda room, between the basement and the rest of the ROTC room. The poorly painted walls (in shades of hospital gown blue and off-white) are scattered with army posters and information, and two soda machines glimmer with their luminescence-- a Fruitopia machine and a Sprite machine.
I look around, bewildered to find myself here. It is relatively dark-- the door to the classroom being closed and locked tight. No other people are around. There is only one light on in the basement hallway. It seems late.
Then, as if I am not the one there, I reach into my pocket, sure of what I am doing, yet not knowing what.
I pull out a ring-- the cheap kind made to look like gold (but they actually look like brass) with a plastic charm in the shape of a sparkly orange heart.
Without a second thought, I stuff the ring into the coin slot of the Sprite machine. The machine seems to glow brighter for a minute, and then the world around me is dark, and is being pulled away from me like it is taffy.
When I look up again, the room -and the basement outside-is light. The door to the class is open, and one can easily see the trophy cases, staff area, and bulletin boards scattered about the formerly wide open area.
I walk inside, unsure of what just happened, knowing only that I am now in control of my own body. The ring is gone.
It seems as though it is late morning -just before lunch-and the class is being dismissed. They are sitting and talking, while an obviously older person shuffles some papers and makes a few comments to two people beside her.
She then leans back and shouts "Company, Atten-hua!" Suddenly, everything clicks. Not completely-- it's like having a large chunk of the puzzle, but not the whole thing. I know that accent. It gets stuck in people's memories, and it reminds me of...
Instantly, my eyes wander to where I normally sit. Standing off to the left of the standard school desk, orange seat and all, is a tall, young man, with head of naturally-spiky hair. Sort of like a long crew cut. I recognize him instantly...
My crush... only... 15. *MY* age. I mouth three little words as the class walks toward me: "Oh. My. God."
Of all the people in the class, only he seems to notice me, as he wanders up to me with a raised eyebrow and a perplexed expression on his handsome face. He was even more gorgeous younger. With thicker hair, a more obvious build, not so concealed by baggy clothes, and even more puppyish brown eyes, the color of shelled almonds, he was drop dead handsome.
"Do we know each other?" He asks me. Blunt, brutal. I smile, mentally giving him credit for that. I must look so out of place, I think, but everyone passes by me without a thought. There are quite a lot of people-- 40, I think, or something close to it. I glance into the office, and am amused to see the Colonel and the Sergeant Major --looking much younger, and still wearing those blasted green uniforms.
One could almost make out streaks of a brownish-blonde in the Colonel's graying hair, and the Sergeant Major has bushier, curlier hair, even on his mustache.
They look up, but don't recognize me.
Suddenly, time seems to slap me in the face, and everyone in the class is gone but me and my crush. Jake.
"Uhm, no... I don't think so." But he doesn't seem to simply accept this and walk away to lunch.
"Uhm... I'm Jason." He introduces himself, without a handshake, but I smile at him anyway. It doesn't matter. I already know more about him than he'll ever know.
"Meredith." I try my best to smile winningly at him, and it seems to work, because he blushes a bit. Inside, I'm doing a happy jig and dancing to Hamsterdance.
"I'll, uh... walk you to your 7th period, Meredith." Jason doesn't meet my gaze, but I smile anyway. Well, if my face gets stuck with a smile on it and he's with me, who cares?
It isn't until we reach the 2nd floor that I realize that it *is* 1996. My 7th period isn't really here... my teacher isn't even IN this class.
"Uh... I'll meet you here after school!" Jason says in a hurry, having mentioned something about CSP (class cleanup) on our way upstairs. He then rushes off, leaving me smiling.
A security guard glares at me, and I edge into the classroom with a sheepish smile on my face.
I notice with a grin that my favorite teacher (that I had met when my sister brought me to highschool on my off days) was here. Mr. Martin.
"Meredith? What are you doing here? You're so tall!" That was true. The last time he saw me, I was 10.
1996. The year my sister died. This year I had dubbed as 'The Year Of Hell' even though my torment only lasted through summer. I still had time, didn't I? If that was what I was truly here for... not just for my own selfish reasons? I didn't know. But I could do nothing now, nothing by live in the moment.
"Uhm, yeah. Growth spurt. Long story." I say briefly. His class in engaged in some rather boring work for art. Being a chem teacher, his ideas of art aren't very broad.
"Mr. M, why don't you..." And I prattle off some suggestions from my old -er, future- teacher to make the class more exciting. The class takes to them rapidly, and sooner than I realize, the class is over.
I've made new friends, though I doubt I'll ever see them again. Unless by some long shot, I manage to go back to my time, not affect it enough to change anything too serious, and they'd remember me when they were seniors. Weird. Time paradoxes never made sense to me, and that was why they fascinated me. But that's another story; I'm babbling.
So before I knew it, I was the last one in the class besides Mr. M, and then someone tapped me on the shoulder. Jason stood behind me, smiling.
"I thought you had CSP?" I asked him, gathering my things. I had things? I guess I had my backpack and other school-essentials, but nothing else.
"I do. Come on." Maybe I gave off some good energy or whatnot, because he smiled and grabbed my arm as we ran downstairs.
I helped out with the CSP, and then we parted ways outside the main entrance.
Somehow, I went home. That was it, I went home. My house was my house, yet not my house. I mean, I was in a time where I was supposed to be 11 years old, and my sister was still alive. But it was as empty as it usually was when I got home -alone- when I was 15.
Sorry for the tense change, people, but it helps to speed things along. ^^;
Things were in and out of time-- things that I had not owned when I was 11 were there, and things that I hadn't seen for years were there. My room was actually my sister's room, but not.
I managed to survive what seemed like a week... and then, before I knew it, Jason asked me to the boat dance.
I had sworn off dances after my 8th grade dinner dance, but the fact that *he* asked me completely changed my mind. I recalled something my friend Eve had told me to reassure me when I had been doubting every possibility of Jason ever liking me -in my time, when he was 4 years older than me- "Maybe he'll ask you to the Boat Dance, or Prom." Well, Prom was a bit far-fetched, but...
Then, I had a dress. It was a dress I had when I was 15, but not 11. Sneaking into 'my' room was hard enough, but avoiding my mom, my sister, or worse, MYSELF... well, that'd be a might difficult if this had actually happened.
We went to the dance... oh, it was bliss. I didn't get motion sick. (Not that I normally do, but I wish I had in an odd sense) Then, the boat was swaying -just a bit- and the night was clear and cool. May in San Francisco, and it was blissfully perfect.
Then, with each star glistening brighter, I knew there was something wrong.
The next thing I knew, I was in a hallway... like those in a restaurant, between the kitchen and the bathrooms. The bathrooms were to my left, the 'stage' to my right. Other couples were pressed against the walls, either seasick or enjoying the 'romanticness' of a boat rocking back and forth.
Meanwhile, Jason and I were a mite uncomfortable. I supposed giving how much I knew about him, we got along fine, and he was younger, and just was more likable. And easier to like others, whatever that means.
But I was suddenly feeling queasy, but it wasn't because of the ship's rocking. Or the lights swaying, the punch bowl tilting...
The world was becoming a mass of color, a mass of lines and people that were no more than blurs. The world was being pulled away from me again.
Why me, Lord, I asked, Why now? I had a chance, maybe to be a bit selfish for once, (though people would probably say I usually was...) and maybe even rectify the mistakes time had made. But wasn't it the Priest at my sister's funeral that had, in the first place, said that He had chosen her to come with him now, to be with her father, and the rest of her family? That I couldn't change? I was never a big believer in almighties and that kind of thing-- I do believe each person sets their own fate, despite the fact that maybe there is such a thing as divine intervention, and holy powers. Maybe even someone who watches over time and fate, but doesn't interfere.
Jason's voice was echoing in and out of my hearing, like chimes and steel drums at the same time... past the loud sound of blood rushing in my ears. God, it hurt now... it was dizzying, just to stand up.
I have to go, I told him, and I knew I was crying.
Why? No... He protested, though I think he knew better.
I... I want you to know...
It was like a soap opera, and you knew what was coming next, but like the time in the soda room, it was out of my control.
I mouthed to him my true feelings, my thoughts, my selfish desire. Then the world was pulled away from me, and I saw the light of the soda room.
At that millisecond, I woke up.
A dream is a funny thing, isn't it?
