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Well, I just remembered that when I started this blog, I pre-created a tag called “dreams”, probably intending to write down some of my dreams. Well, I just woke up from a nap and a really freaky one. Kinda depressing, actually…so here it goes:

Well, it all start when when this sort of war breaks out in my school. Well, actually, I think it was more of a hostile takeover…actually, it may have actually be a sort of prejudice against a certain category of people throughout the world, bit for the first part of my dream, it’s all contained within my high school. Anyway, is end up with about half of the kids in charge – but they have guns (Yeah, and even though my dream takes place in a school, the teachers aren’t there for some reason).

There’s an us-against-them mentality created, and they take to, well, killing the ones who aren’t on their side – we’re talking what could constitute as genocide, because as I remember, the kids with guns quickly become the majority running around (Probably because everyone has either left, joined them, or gotten caught). Of course, given that it’s my dream, I’m on the side that’s getting gunned down.

At one point, I seemed to be alone, darting around the school, trying to stay alive. Actually, I remember one part where I get into the schhool’s kitchen, and I decided to hide inside an oven (it was some sort of coffin=sized drawer-type oven, stay with me!) overnight to avoid getting found.

Oh, and there’s one point where I overhear one of their meetings, where they discuss their almost propaganda-like ideals (oddly enough, I think Hannah Montana is involved).

Then, after some time, and some pretty surreal stuff that I can’t remember (I think balloons were involved…), I wound up reunited with a small group of people like me. This group included a guy that I didn’t know, a girl that I’ve known since kindergarten and been friends with since grade 6 (let’s call her Caroline), and a girl that I’ve known since grade 1 and pretty much been friends with the whole time (minus a few years when we were in different classes) (Let’s call her Chiara).

So we eventually decide that the best course of action would be to leave the school for somewhere else, and to make a run for it through one of the back doors, since there would probably be less to no people from the other side there, and apparently make arrangements for once we’re outside.

Well, me, Caroline and the guy make it out the door first and run for it across the field. There are kids on the roof with guns, but by the time they notice, we’re outside of their firing range. But what happens is that Chiara gets out of the school way after the rest of us, so by the time she’s heading out the door, the ones on the roof with guns have noticed… from my POV, I only hear gunfire, and notice that Chiara never catches up with us…

So back to us, we make it to some ruins of a plaza, where there’s an envelope waiting for us with some papers, telling us to follow this staircase (which turns out to be this big-ass one that’s painted green and white (don’t ask me how I remember that but not the rest of this messed up crap). We follow it, and eventually wind up at this little uncovered greenhouse run by a dad and his son who agree to take us in and hide us from the scary people with guns (cuz apparently they don’t just exist inside my school).

That’s where I woke up, feeling pretty depressed because, well, I feel like I’ve just watched Red Dawn (I’ve never actually seen it, but I know enough about what happens to know I would get depressed watching it), and also because, well, one of my oldest friends got shot and killed in my dream!

I think I could probably figure out where this came from – one of my teachers was telling us about the crapola going down in Congo right now, which probably got me thinking about genocide and kids with guns. Then I was talking with my friends about Twilight, which got me going about propaganda (well, you gotta admit, its popularity is frighting…). Given my last sentence, you could probably figure out where Hannah Montana comes in… Oh, but after the rest of my dream, I have no idea (though I did read a bit of Margaret Peterson Haddix when I was younger…


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