I was in fifth grade, but still in my twenties. Various people I knew from college were in the classroom (the same one I had in 7th and 8th grade) and we had a new teacher (in her 30s I think). Somehow it seemed that she had Irish heritage, but blonde hair, and she decided that we would exercise every day for a half hour in our seats. There was a mixture of college and elementary school kids, but the difference didn’t seem too noticeable at the time.
The teacher moved people to different sides of the room, and only later did I realize she had separated us by gender. First she worked with the girls, and the exercises were not at all helpful. It was more like bending but not flexing—a uneconomical use of time and effort. She told one older girl to “stick out your diaphragm” and one of the younger girls went “ew!” at the slight belly bulge that followed. I kept wanting to show her various stretches or exercises that we could do without depending on the flimsy school chairs and desks for support, but she talked too fast and seemed to really think her methods were useful.
[I suspect this is about different yoga techniques and my interest in Kriya yoga, the lightning path, as opposed to other slower methods, but in this case, the teacher might actually be me due to my overall unwillingness to sign up for lessons from Paramahansa Yogananda’s organization (one makes a promise not to discuss the lessons with others, directing them instead to get their own lessons).]
The boys were exercising on the other side of the room, and they got to do their own exercises that were far more useful. Seeing that they were doing whatever they pleased without the teacher’s watchful eye, I began to work on my triceps by supporting myself on a chair seat with my arms but lowering the rest of my body in front of it. The teacher didn’t seem to notice and went over to the boys. The girls immediately ceased to exercise and took up talking about the teacher under their breath. I went to go down the hallway for a drink (this was in an above ground “tunnel” that links two buildings at my college together) and caught a look at myself in a window, stopping. I seemed to be me, wearing my light blue cami, but with blood—at least, I assumed it was blood, and fresh, from its color, in two large circles—bigger than half dollars--over the middle area, the bottom one slightly to the left, the top more centered. I zipped my hoodie up over it and came back to class, unconcerned.
The teacher had put on the movie Waterworld, except it wasn’t the Kevin Costner movie. It was a futuristic, post-apocalyptic kind of movie, but I can’t recall exactly what went on. It looked darker, like people were underground, and the lights in the room were off. The room was kind of loud, and I sat in my desk with my feet up on the desk in front of me. I was eating Doritos (most Doritos contain dairy, so I don’t eat them in waking life). A security guard came in and the teacher looked startled. The class became very quiet, and she told him that we were having a celebration because we had met some goal with a pledge drive or had read so many books or something fifth graderish. I kept thinking about being in fifth grade and trying to figure out the numbers of grade and age in my head.
I think the lights came on overhead, and I looked down and realized how many Doritos were sitting on my stomach (apparently I’d leaned back and put a handful of them on my stomach) and I felt like other people would see how many I had there and make fun of me for being a pig. [unresolved food, weight and body issues, I’m guessing]
I think there was something about French class, but this might be because in the dream I was comparing the class I was in to my French class in high school where we watched many, many movies (The Little Prince, Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (in Spanish), etc.)
Here I don’t remember, so either it is when I woke up, or switched into another dream. I did wake up for a few moments, and then rolled over to sleep, where I had another dream of flipping through many different names, people David Wilcock mentioned in his interview with Project Camelot, but there were a lot more names and I don’t remember any at the moment.
No comments:
Post a Comment