Repeating dream . . .

The first time I had this dream was last Friday.  I’ve had it 3 times since.

Honestly, I am not sure if it should be classed as a dream or a nightmare.  The emotions it invokes are intense, but nothing that is actually bad happens, and part of it is pretty cool.

First off – there is NO WAY it could happen in the life I have now.  In the dream, I’m between 8-12 years old, and in a public school.  Since, as I write this, I am less than a month away from turning 54, that just isn’t going to happen.  I suppose it “could” be a peek at my next life – with a half-dozen caveats to the laws of physics.  Oh, and then there is the whole gender thing – in the dream I’m a girl.

Ok, I’ll share the dream.

I’m sitting at my desk, in the middle of the classroom.  There are about 20-30 other kids in the class, and the teacher is a woman in her 40’s.  There is a lot of excitement in the room, as today is the last day of school for the term, and we’re about to take our final exams.  One entire wall has windows along the full length, and all are open about half way, with no screens covering them.  There are large black boards at the front and back of the classroom.

The teacher stands from her desk and announces that the finals will be taken one-at-a-time, and will be oral.  Then she tells everyone to file into the coat closet – except me.  I’m to report to the principal’s office.

I’m completely unaware of having done anything wrong, so I ask why I’m being sent to the principal’s office.  She states that it is to prevent cheating, and I pop a gasket. “Cheating?  ME?  You’re worried about ME cheating?  I’ve never once cheated, nor helped anyone else cheat, and you’re worried about me?  I go to Sunday School with them (indicating the other kids)  – I know what they believe and are capable of.  I AM NOT THE ONE TO WORRY ABOUT!”

Not only does my voice slowly increase in volume throughout that short speech, but I’m unaware until it is through that I’ve been gaining altitude as well.  By the end, my feet are level with the top of my desk, but I’m not standing on anything.  I’m floating.  Weirdly, when I realize this, my reaction is that it is as natural as breathing.  I look at all the kids, back to the teacher, and just accept it as what is – then I tell the teacher one last thing.  “I don’t care what grade you give me, because I’m NEVER coming back here.”  Then I fly out the window.