Saturday, June 18, 2011

Chapter 18

When I woke up, I looked through the phone book provided in the room, and I looked up Bridgeport Elementary, hoping that they would tell me that Ms. Turnwise (oh llama, hopefully she's a miss..) was a teacher there.  I may just get lucky.  I really had to bet that that random snob wasn't being sarcastic with at least that one statement-hopefully he knew what he was talking about.  Because really, I don't know what else I'd do.  Continue to talk to people?  Yeah, and that went so well yesturday.
I dialed the number, and I crossed my fingers.
"Hello sir, Bridgeport Elementay.  Bethany speaking.  How may I help you?"
"Hello Bethany.  I wanted to know if a Ms. Turnwise is working there."
"Why yes-she teaches second grade.  Are you a parent wanting to know something about your kid?"
"Well, actually my kid just started there and I wanted to make sure I was getting his teacher's name right, and I just can't get myself to ask him again," I lied.  I don't really ever have to lie, and it's a good thing, because I am a crummy liar.
Luckily, she didn't seem fazed by my phony comment, "Is there anything else, sir?"
"Nothing else Bethany.  Thanks for your help.  Bye."
"Bye."
Well, that went well!  I will have to check on her right after breakfast.
Oh dear llama, it's going to happen so soon.

When I went into the dining hall, I was imediatly greeted by the, erm waitress.  She was dressed like a freaking hooker!  Her belly was showing, and, well no one wears belly shirts anymore, lady, and she had on the shortest little black skirt, and to top it off I could see her bra.  And it wasn't even a white or a tan bra, it was a bright red, so it pretty much showed right through her WHITE shirt.  Her hair was really long and hairsprayed to the max-and not in a ponytail like waitress' hair typically is supposed to be.  I didn't know that I was at a Hooters!  She attracted me like a busniessman is attracted to a prostitute.  We aprreciate their looks and glamor, but know that they're as plastic and shallow as heck.
To top it off, she had a country accent when she spoke.  You typically don't think of hooker's having a southern accent.  It made her seem innocent-her voice being the opposite of her image.
"Now what ya'all like for breakfast this mornin'?"
Her voice was like that of a naiive sixteen year old.  What up wit da voice not matchin her look?  Maybe she was just out of place, and doesn't know her place in the world.  And, obviously, she was insecure.  Women that dress like that always are.
"You know-I'll have some french toast.  Thank you."
I don't make french toast very often, but the thick kind at restaraunts are always delish.  But, I guess I shouldn't really expect much from a place like this-considering everything.

There were only a few people in the room as me.  One of them was that guy that was with the blonde woman.  I was glad that she wasn't there, because considering she was just in my dream, seeing her for real would give me the creeps-especially if she decided to walk near me.  There was also a bar in the room, so I suppose it could do well for dinner and a drink as well.  But really, I am thinking ahead of myself!  Rachelle first...then other things can go next.
It will all work out, she will know who I am, and she will not be disgusted.
I have been trying to convice myself that she won't look at me weird, clearly not recognizing me, or just plain shun me after realizing that I was in her dreams.  I have been doing it so much and so well, I was beginning to believe myself.

Soon-well, I guess not so soon, I was caught up in my thoughts, miss Hooker comes over to give me my french toast.
"Here you go, hun."
Then, she didn't leave like waitresses usually do.  She was one of those kind.
"So, tell me.  Where do you' come from?"
Then, she puts her foot on the chair beside me, and puts her hands on her chin, giving me a look expectantly.  She leans a little more closely then necessary.
Oh llama, the hooker is flirting with me.
I back up a little, hoping that she would get the hint.  Not interested.
"I am from Longview."
"Oh really!  Well, isn't that lovely.  I'm from a small town mysel'."
She obviously, now, is in the frame of mind of a city, because Longview really isn't super small.  Technically, I suppose it's a suburb of Bridgeport, but a rather far away one than that.
I figured that I couldn't let her talk to me anymore.  She wasn't getting my hints.  "Look, I have to eat because I have to get going soon."
She gives me this girlish wink, and she starts to walk away, moving her hips and butt a little more than necessary.
"Oh sorry, hun.  I hope to see you later.  Will you be here for lunch?"
"Not sure yet."

Then, I dug into my french toast.  It was pretty good, actually, considering the cheap price of the place, my gorgeous room, and the floozy waitress from the south- what is up with that?  And, it was the thick, beautiful french toast I was hoping for-and the swirled on the french toast was even real maple syrup, real maple syrup, and I'm in Bridgeport!  What's up with my luck?  Cause it's not like I was going to have to pay for it, it is a continental breakfast, and a nice one at that.
Then I turned my thoughts to Rachelle.  I was both nervous and excited to finally see her face to face-without there being any other people there, or a schedule in mind.  I am not crazy-she couldn't possibly think that.  It's not like I can control my dreams (well, okay, sometimes I can now, now that I am able to lucid dream), and control whether I see her or not.  But it seemed that Rachelle did control that.  She would always show up in my dreams, and she would be lucid even if she never made me lucid.  What does that say about her?  How could she find me-or, there still is that possibility that it wasn't truly her but a version of her that I made up in my head.  But how is that possible?  How could I know what some girl looks like in Bridgeport that I've never met, or even seen?  It was aparent that she was the one, there was no question about it.  While at the dream presentation, I could feel her presence, just like it felt in my lucid dream.  Surely she felt that too? 
How would it be possible for my brain to conjure her up?  She looked just like her, though I never saw her face too well in my dreams, it was undeniable.  Wouldn't it be harder for my brain to come up with that same "feeling" around her that I felt when I saw her for real?  Or was that feeling in my head-did I just come up with that in the dream, just because it was a dream, I felt that wonderful, butterfly-pit like sensation.  Did I just put that feeling to her face in real life because it was a preconcieved notion?  Could it be that hard for my mind to do that to me?  But how could it do that in the first place-it almost seems more believable that she would show up in my dream-actually her.  Because, didn't she act strange during the presentation-she ran away when she was done.  Who does that?  Surely she could feel it too.  It has to be that way-it had to have been really her.

I finished my french toast, and I made it to Bridgeport elementary.  It was quite a big and lovely city school-just how one should think a grade school in the city should look like.  It looked large and grand, way better than my school ever did.  In the distance, I saw a hotair balloon, and it was lovely, though it was a very cloudy, gross day in Bridgeport.  Who knows what that could mean-good luck, or bad luck-or maybe neautral.
Oh my llama, my dream predicted this.
My dream said that something big was going to happen and its outcome was not yet known.  How could I know ahead of time that this would happen?
What were the numbers again-
Then I remembered what my lucky numbers were said to be.  Ten, Eleven, and twenty one.
The presentation started at ten-and she ran out at eleven!  I don't know about twenty one, though...
Ah, how strange!  So what, I am a psychic, but I will only be hinted at what the future would hold in my dreams, and technically it's some inner consiousness that knows about it?
Oh, but what could this mean for Rachelle.  Does that mean that my mind knew I'd see her in the future-like at the dream presentation, and came up with a perfect image of her.
My shoulders sank at this thought.  This means it is possible that she didn't feel it!  But still-she acted so strange at the presentation.
How can any of this be true? This is insane, or maybe I'm just insane and I had a blow to my head-yeah, that's it.
But there was just no way I was backing down from this!  I would regret it all my life if I did.

Ah, another secretary to deal with.  Wow-this time it's actually a guy.
"Hello sir, I was wondering if I could see Ms. Turnwise."
"Are you the biologist?"
I figured that meant that a biology person was going to visit the class, and talk about something.  I'm not stupid.
"Yeah, that's me."
I cannot give him any reason to tell me that I can't see her.
"It's room 17.  Take two lefts and you'll be there."
"Thank you sir."
"Yup, have a nice day."
Step one accomplished.

Soon, I made it to room seventeen.  I stood there for like two minutes gaining my nerves to go inside.
This is it.
I opened the door, and she was standing in the room, staring at some spilled water.  To my happiness, it looked like her students weren't in the room.
She just kept looking at it, and doing these funny annoyed faces.  She seemed to be amusing herself.  I was glad and sad that she didn't notice me yet, but it was making me more nervous every second.  As each moment passed, my stomach's flip flops increased.

Then, she finally turned around, and she gave me this look.  It wasn't the sort of look that many people in Bridgeport have been giving me.  It wasn't that snobbish 'why don't you go away, you creep' kind of look.  Her eyes expanded in size, and she surpressed a smile. It didn't seem like she was going to speak.

I wasn't exactly about to speak myself.  I just continued to stare at her with a supressed look.  I guess I just wasn't as expressive as she was.  Under other circumstances, I probably would've laughed at her look.  In a good way, it was quite humerous.  I was killing time, and I ended up yawning and touching my face.  I know, it wasn't very attractive, and I came in here for a reason.  But, I just couldn't get the words out.  Typical.  See what happens when I take initiative?

After a few minutes of that awkward staring at each other, and our own feet, and just really looking over each other, she came walking over, slowly but surely.
"Yes, sir.  What can I help you with?"
Not exactly what I was hoping for.
"Nice classroom you got here.  Where are the kids?"
I figured a little small talk first couldn't hurt, so I can gain up my nerves.  That way when she hears it, at least she won't think I'm so crazy.
"Actually, I just sent them out to recess.  You see, one of the kids just threw up.  One girl brought in some peanut butter crackers for a snack-and didn't even realize that Sammy is allergic!  The poor boy didn't even realize it, and barfed right on my floor!  The janitor should be coming soon.  I couldn't let the kids stay in here with that all over the middle of my classroom."
I sniffed, and I could suddenly smell it.  Strange how sometimes you can't smell something if you don't know if there's anything to smell.
"Oh-that's unfortunate."
"Yup, and it was really gross.  One girl's shoe even had some of it on it!  The poor girl had to clean it off in the restroom-luckily they were plastic shoes.  It slipped right off.
I smiled.  Her speech was just so different, it was amusing.  Her voice kept going up and down, and she wasn't shy, that was for sure.  It was really expressive.
"What-what's so funny?"
Again with that tone!
"Oh, I just like the way that you talk."
Then, she said what I didn't expect her to say, "oh really, you think so?  I do that on purpose sometimes.  It amuses me."
I laughed.  "Yeah, it is amusing."
She smiled wide.

"So, why did you come here?"
She wasn't going to give it up.
"Oh, um-I just wanted to see what your classroom was like."
I did have to stretch the truth a little, but I had to buy myself some time.  I can't just ask her all of a sudden..
"Oh really?  Well, then what better a place then my classroom?"
Funny how she didn't think that it was a strange reason to come in here, but of course I was glad that she couldn't detct it.

"That's a cute little reading corner over there."
"Thanks.  We call it the blue corner.  Though-really it isn't in a corner, and it's not really that creative a name, I actually didn't even come up with its name.  One of the kids did-and everyone seemed to like it, so we went with it.  I just love to read to little kids.  I like to change my voice for each character, ask questions to them, the whole bit.  Sometimes it's quite amusing to hear there answers, and their little giggles.  They laugh quite a lot, actually.  Sometimes I laugh with them.  I am quite the laugher!"
It was quite adorable how much she ranted.  Strange how I didn't like it when Cassandra did, but I liked when she did.  I guess I'm bias.
I smiled.  "That sounds really nice."
"What do you do for a living?"

Then, I found the courage to say what I actually came here for.
"Look, I didn't come here to ask about your classroom though I do find it very nice.  Please don't think that I'm insane, because I'm not.  You've been in my dreams for the past few months-and I couldn't help but notice that you were one of the presenters at the dream presentation yesturday-and I found out that you work here, and I came here to talk with you-and-and..."
I stopped.  It was out now, if she's going to think I'm crazy, then now it may as well happen.  It's all out now.
Oh lama, what will she say?

Then her eys got really wide.  They were a brilliant shade of green, they were quite lovely.

She waited a minute, and looked around the room.
"Alex-right?"
Oh gosh, yes...
"I've been having those dreams too.  You've been in my dreams.
Then the janitor came in, perfect timing.
"Sorry, did I interupt something here folks?"
Oh llama.  You have no idea.

No comments:

Post a Comment