Past

I am on a farm, on a factory compound. It is filled with cow-milking equipment. Now I am sitting on a flight of steps outside of a building which is outside of my vision. It reminds me of the steps of the music room of my old secondary school. A boy named Fred and his friends are there with me, surrounding me. Some sit, some stand. He is standing. They are talking. Fred and I look at each other on occasion. The dream shifts …

My guy Winter and I, a man named Rivenis and his underage girlfriend, are standing beneath a lamp post in the dark of night. The place reminds me of the Home Economics Rooms at my old secondary school, but because the lighting is so dim, it is difficult to be certain. The little girl is doing strip tease of Rivenis. I am making a valiant effort not to show my disgust at the disturbing and grotesque reality of a 26 yr old man taking advantage of an impressionable 17 year old girl in an inglorious attempt to ignore his own age, and focus on Winter instead. The dream shifts …

I am in a dusky, pinkish-brown room with a boy named Remi, who wants to borrow my laptop. Inside the laptop is a vast, celestial universe and he keeps “resting” his blue, plastic cups inside of the laptop, where they are set afloat into the deep. I tell him to stop, that Winter is going to get angry, because he wants to use the laptop after him. I try my best to get him to stop because I can sense Winter outside the building becoming frustrated. The dream shifts …

I am in a part of the compound that looks like … The Compound, also known as the Advocate. The cubicles are side by side in a horizontal line across the room, and two girls named Camille and Bea are sitting to my left. We are taking a test, but there are no instructions on my paper. I don’t know how to proceed.

We take a break from the exam for lunch, and suddenly I am in the lunch line in the cafeteria of my old secondary school, and my best friend at the time, a girl named Tranel Ifill is there. She goes skipping away to the past of my old secondary school and all the inhabitants therein, and I walk over to Camille and Bea who are also taking a lunch break from the exam. I ask them about the first question on the exam, the one without any instructions. They say something vague about it concerning a song, in a clipped, brusque way that tells me they don’t want to talk about it, so I leave them alone.

We have now returned to the exam room, and I realize that the first question is indeed the lyrics of a song sung by the artist Monica. I interpret it and analyse it as best as I can and submit my test papers. The dream ends …