Back to School

Highschool, that is.

I dreamed I was riding a really bumpy school bus; it would go over bumps and we'd all go flying up in the air. When we finally got to the school and got parked, I saw it was my old high school.

So I go in, and go to my old locker, before I realize it's not my locker anymore. So I go to the office lady and say that I need a schedule and a locker, and she gets the information. She asks me a question, I don't remember what, and I don't remember what I answer with, but she smiles and digs up a red paper.

My schedule. I'm scheduled to go to all sorts of classes, and all the teachers are Irish. There was only one familiar name on that list, and the class he was teaching was an Israeli self-defense class, though my mind translated the name of the class as something else.

I asked if I could get some art classes, and was told I had already taken all the art classes available. So I figured this wasn't too bad. I start off to my first class, I believe it was an English class with a woman named "Sibeal." This is the point at which I woke up. :/