futuristic pens and ghostly pencils


I was in school. It was actually a school that I’m starting to realize has featured prominently in several of my dreams, yet it doesn’t exist, and I cannot think of any possible basis that may have inspired it. I’ll call it the Windowless Classroom School. It is characterized by classrooms in a probably-upstairs hall who’s chalkboards/teacher’s area faces the door, and the door is exactly in the centre of the room. The classrooms are not lit as brightly as they usually are, and there are no windows. The walls are not white as they usually are – if I had to define them, I’d say they were either wood panelled, particle board, or panels of those hole-y wood stuff often used in garages and workshops to affix things to hooks. They generally have a workshop feel to them. The rooms feel comfortable, despite the fact that I almost never enjoy these dreams. The floor plan most resembles OTHS, where I spent my final year of HS, but only just vaguely and possibly merely coincidentally.

I was in algebra class, and there was a test or in-class assignment. I could not find my pencil. I asked the guy next to me if I could borrow one of the several he was taking out of his pencil case, and his response was a matter of fact “of course not” that initially assumed was a joke but then soon realized was not.

So what I had to do was turn invisible and sort of float around the school like a ghost scouring the school for pencils. This was much harder than you’d think, I was into far reaches of the school I had never been to, with giant hallways that looked like they were designed for massive machinery to move through, and which contained all kinds of scaffolding and thick piping protruding from the walls. There was a Filch-like grounds-keeper of whom I was worried I’d be caught.

I didn’t get back in time, so I failed. This kid who resembled Nelson from The Simpsons also failed, and immediately sat down in the middle of the hall and started eating his lunch, which was three giant bags of chips.

The other dream I had that night was also about pens. I was in the top floor of a shop, a sort of crowded stained glass windowed attic to a wood house. I was with my cousin S’s husband, also-S.

He was showing me this pen he was using, suggesting I use the same type. It cost eight dollars and only lasted about a week. You leave the cap on and hold down a button and it sprays a black mist out of a vent on the tip of the cap. Sort of like an airbrush but smaller. I found it strange he would recommend something that required such skill and also was super expensive. But it was a pretty awesome pen.

Also going to mention: My voice recording recount of the dream after I woke up mentions something about “building a space rocket” that I don’t remember and have no context for, as well as “a sitcom about superheroes” and the phrase/chant “you don’t care, you don’t care” in relation to failing the test, which I am also uncertain about.


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