After arriving at my grandparents’ home, feeling unusually sleepy, I went to bed early. Here is what I dreamed.
The dream begins at the end of my summer break. I am 19 years old, having just graduated the Swedish equivalent of high school and said farewell to many of my friends from there. A new life awaits me.
Having been accepted into an out-of-town university, I found myself seeking the bus that would take me there. I eventually climbed aboard a tiny one that was excruciatingly tight and cruddy with a rude driver that didn’t even arrive on time. Did I mention I had recently come home from Greece when I had this dream?
Either way, instead of bringing me to Västerås, the town where the university is located, the bus drove to an airport where my father and brother Oscar were waiting for me. I guessed that we were gonna get to Västerås by jet plane, which would have been convenient, but I wasn’t entirely right. Apparently we were gonna go there by a propeller plane piloted by my father. I chose not to question it as I was already getting late for my first day at the university.
When I finally got to the university and started looking for my classroom, I noticed something that made me glad but extremely baffled. All of my “new” classmates were friends from the high school era of my life! Shocked but delighted to see each other again, we eventually started noticing that some of our old classmates were actually absent. But still, the new gang was comprised entirely of members of the old gang, which we all at first thought was some utterly bizarre coincidence.
That is, until we met our new teacher, an old and cranky fella with a deep voice and non-existent sense of humour. He told us that we had all been specifically selected for this school, which he told us was brand new and, somewhat alarmingly, “experimental”.
We started asking questions frantically, but he quickly commanded us to keep silent so that he could give us our, as he called them, “first tasks”. These included finding a key inside of a pie by eating it all up without using your hands. Another one included hiding the key again, except inside of a muffin this time. We took too long to eat the pie and way too long to bake the muffin so the teacher eventually became quite aggravated with us. He buried his face in the leftovers of the pie and apologized for his outburst, trying to assure us that he didn’t hate our guts. He then shook his head somberly and told us we could go home.
After this awkward ordeal, we suddenly ran into our old teacher, Anna-Lena, in the corridors. It was a happy reunion at first, but asking her why we, her old class, had been sent to the same university only resulted in her claiming that she had things to do right before storming off. Still somewhat confused, we went outside and sat ourselves down near the edge of a forest. We started reminiscing about things we’ve been through and sharing stories from our respective summers when suddenly, one of the people whom we hadn’t yet reunited with appeared from behind some bushed – a girl named Nathalie.
As I tried to approach her, say hello, and ask why she hadn’t been in the classroom with the rest of the gang, she turned away from me and started crying. She said something about us being stuck here forever and eventually ran back into the woods. Some of her closer friends followed her as I still stood there and started feeling dizzy. A few seconds later, I passed out.
During my blackout, I had a dream within a dream. It was some sort of flashback to before I had left and was still home with my parents in the country side. They had both started theorizing that there’s something wrong about the world we live in and dad was gonna put this to the test. According to him, if he went outside and cut down a random tree with a chainsaw, he would be able to prove that this was, in fact, a dream world; a sentient and self-aware dream world! If the tree regenerated right after he chopped it down, he said, it would prove him right in thinking that this world indeed had a mind of its own.
So he grabbed his chainsaw and ran into the spookily misty outdoors to cut down one of the smaller trees near our road. I told mom:
“Lucky he didn’t pick one of the taller ones. The dream world would probably have gotten angry with us and made it fall right on our house.”
Mom laughed as though I was telling a joke. When dad had finished cutting down the tree, he noticed that the tree almost instantly started regenerating right in front of his eyes. The sight made him jump up and down with joy, but it soon turned out that I probably hadn’t been too far off with my guess that the sentient dream world would get mad at us. A loud rumble was heard, seemingly coming from the sky, as things started shaking.
I woke up, having been carried into my dormitory room by my new college roommates – a Mexican man who looked somewhat like Oscar Martinez from The Office, a skinny crackhead who always sat in the corner and snickered, and a big, burly fella who wore nothing but a speedo. Our room was lit only by candles, had brown wooden walls and looked like the room of some medieval inn. After the roommates had finished introducing themselves to me, I decided that I’d had enough bonding time with them for one day and took a stroll down the corridor, eventually ending up in a significantly more modern-looking and luxurious room. Here I reunited with another friend from high school: a girl named Sara, as well as her sister Caroline who had for some reason decided to color her hair purple.
When I returned to my own room, the man in the speedo had started mumbling a bunch of cryptic statements, repeating some of the things Nathalie had said earlier about being stuck in this place forever. He then twitched as millions of strands of blue hair sprouted from all over his body.
The snickering drug addict in the corner burst out laughing and started mocking the hairy blue man’s appearance. The two started yelling obscenities at each other until the Mexican man told them to settle down and listen. He said that he had a theory about the nature of this world; that it was some kind of purgatory that would replay certain periods of our respective lives for good until it drove us all stark raven mad. Just as he had said this, though, the loud rumble was heard again and the world started shaking even more than before.
I then woke up with a small spot of drool on my pillow. No more Coke before bed.
This has been the third entry of the Dream Diary. More will come if I dream something that must also be written.