If last night’s dream meant something, not in a predictive way but in a representation of how I view my real world kind of way, it is pretty gloomy. I am also not happy with the way I am or what I say in the end. Read on…
I am in a school’s classroom and it seemed like I was the teacher. There were only a few students, young, no more than 8 years old. They didn’t say a word and kind of disappeared in the rest of the dream. It was quiet in the classroom and the lights were off. Light was pouring in through the windows casting desk fuzzy shadows on the shiny buffed floor.
Next, I don’t know the order. I was peeking around the corner of the classroom door, out and down the hallway. I did this a few times and saw another teacher dash across the floor, scurrying along to come into my classroom, as if we expected unseen shooters or attackers. He wasn’t anybody I recognized from real life. He was going bald and had a mustache, a little like Milton from Office Space.
Then I stood a few feet away from the window listening. There were loud thundering booms overhead, coming from outside. I walked over to the window to look out and I could see gloomy grey clouds and then sunlight shining through some other clouds in another direction. A storm was coming and in the thunder clouds I saw thick fingers of lightning touching down in multiple places in the distance with a destructive force. The storm clouds were rolling in quickly, approaching the school grounds. Lightning began to strike areas of the grounds’ concrete yard, blowing up chunks as it did so.
I stuck my head out the window to look up and around at the tall school building. Half of it was destroyed and bits of rubble were falling off the sides. Another vein of lightning struck the building while I was looking up and it sent giant pieces of the building flying off and crashing to the ground just a few hundred meters in front of my window.
Then I was walking towards a car that was taking me to the airport. It was in a parking lot. Either I had little luggage or they were already in the car. I was walking, feeling light. A few people stood several feet away from the car. They were friends I did not recognize, there to see me off. In general, I’d say they were happy to see me go. Not because they didn’t want to see me anymore, just that they knew I would be going to a “better” place.
At the airport, I got onto a people mover (one of those flat escalators) moving down a long hallway with an automatic door exit at the end. Next to the exit there were a couple of lounge chairs and a man sat in one of them. When I got off the people mover, I sat in the other chair across the man, who turned out to be Batiatus from the TV show Spartacus. He was going to the same place I was heading to and I told him that it would be satisfying to watch him screw up everything when he gets there.