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I had a dream that I had a corduroy hat in my bookbag, and I kept reminding myself to bring it down to breakfast incase I saw it’s owner - Nigel - in the parking lot. Because if I did - I would run the hat out to him, maybe even through the emergency exit doors, if necessary. My dream as a whole was an intensive morning - I woke up and ate some oats, then went back to sleep for this crazy thing that felt like a vision of what my morning could be like in a possible world.

So I woke up to my door being left propped open - one of my friends had came into my room. No one could have possibly let them in, I was surprised and caught off-gaurd. I also felt incredibly sick and miserable. He sat on my bed and bothered me. Theresa had left the door open, and her mom and her came in the room, caught off-gaurd again by the person in the room, but reluctantly wishing me a Happy Easter, loudly and sweetly. I was still feeling incredibly miserable. Then, my own mom comes in, a full day early and without warning. She was so happy to see me but I was very offended by the fact she was there without letting me know - I wasn’t ready whatsoever, and I wanted to spend another day at school - gosh, I’d miss gallery hop if I went home. I was so upset.

So I shook everyone out of my room, as my mom gathered laundry and brought it to her minivan. I somehow got outside the back of Design Square, after rushing down some stairs. The morning air felt like spring, but the skies were gray and their was an odd lingering frigidness. Thin layers of ice coated the small road between the parking lots. I could see my breath. Someone mentioned to me, “It’s freezing out here. It hasn’t been this frigid in years.” I felt fine, but I felt the chill. Like the world was in limbo.

I went through the apartment building and crossed the street to get to where the quad should be, but the supply store was instead. The whole area felt like a big, busy shopping center in a big city. It felt normal to me. I met up with my mom, talked about what I needed to do - get some papers, get some boxes of important things - and in the supply store, which felt more like a large Barnes and Nobel and Cosi souvenir shop, I exited saying, “I remember the fist time we went here. I knew it was the place.”

Outside, somehow without my mom again, I needed to cross the street. The same person was there, saying this time “The ice hasn’t been like this in years.” I slowly slid down to the ground to feel the ice. My body slowly slid down into a position that I didn’t want to be in - I’m basically on the side of the road, which feels like a huge city street, with different intersections and buildings everywhere. Three kids my age on sleds approached fast - as though they were cars - and nearly dodged me. After, I stood up and carefully yet gracefully slid across the icy street.