Dream #1

His lips were so warm, so irresistible. Locked with mine was where they belonged. It was like floating on a cloud. He would always be there no matter what. My angel.

I woke with a start. For the third time I've had that same dream. The same one where I'm wrapped comfortably in his warm embrace and in the same instant, locking lips that taste like raspberries. You'd think I'd get used to it by the third time but each time, something minisculed is different and each time it adds to the intensity. The strangest part is that it's the same guy but he, too, is somehow different.

It was no use staying in bed; I had to get up and go to work. If it wasn't for those kids, I would stay in bed and dwell on that dream, try to seek its meaning. But I promised myself I'd get up and go to work for the safety and well-being of those kids and that means getting out of bed, walking the few steps to the chilly bathroom, taking a hot shower, and get dressed in khakis and whatever dressy shirt appealed to me. After dressing, I headed downstairs to the kitchen to fix myself some breakfast. This morning I didn't feel like cooking eggs, bacon, and toast so I fixed me a bowl of cereal. Not the healthiest of breakfasts or as filling but it'd satisfy my hunger.

After I ate breakfast and put the dishes in the sink, I grabbed my things to head to work. Outside the door is my morning newspaper so I picked that up and took it with me to read it at lunchtime. I put all my things on the front seat of my baby blue '57 Chevrolet Bel Air and drove off to a place I didn't want to be at the moment.

Driving has its pros and cons: today's con was having too much time to dwell on the dream I've had three times now. I can't seem to fathom the warmth of the kiss, the man behind the kisses, and the number of times it's happened. Dreams don't occur that often and almost be identical not to have some meaning behind it, but I have to let it go and pay attention to the road.

The drive was agonizingly long, to say the least. I parked in my usual spot, right next to Mr. Duncan's navy blue '03 Ford F-150. I sat there for 5 minutes thinking of my plans for the class today, making sure I had everything in mind what I wanted to get done today, and then I got out and headed to the doors and into my classroom.

My classroom, number 115, is located down by the principal's office and kind of away from any other classroom. The powers told me I could do anything I wanted to the room as long as the students would be able to learn without being distracted; totally understood and decorated it to my taste. I do believe the parents enjoy my room more than the rest because of the array of items and pictures I have: a picture of the Blarney Stone in Ireland, a postcard of the Mourne Mountains, a picture of St. Patrick's Cathedral in Dublin, among various other items and pictures. The students love to hear stories about the folklore of Ireland and so I always sit down with them and tell a tale of a leprechaun or fairy. They're always asking questions about Ireland and I smile and yearn to be back in that magical place. It's my home away from home.

I walk to my room and put my things on my desk and make sure I have our agenda written on the board otherwise the kids would be asking me what we are going to do next. After that's done, I head to the office to check my mailbox and chat with a few of the other staff members that are there.

The students were arriving as I was getting the materials out for the day. A few stopped to say good morning before putting their things away. As soon as it was 8:00 a.m., I took attendance and told them to get their writing journals out. I always have them start the day by writing a few sentences about anything they want and then share it with the class. A few of them are well written while others still need work but that's why I am a teacher, to help improve the children's educational skills. After that, I told them to put their journals away and get a notebook out so we could learn the English language. Today I taught them pronouns and most of them got the hang of it. After a quick homework assignment, we went on to spelling. I had them write down the words and look up the definition and write it in a sentence. That took a bit of time but then it was almost recess time. I asked them if they wanted snack time before or after recess and majority said after so then we played a quick game of hangman with spelling words.

Recess came and went and so did snacktime so then it was back to work. Science and social studies passed by in a breeze and soon it was lunch. Lunch. The dreadful time when I have time alone to eat and think about things. Today was not a good day to do that but thankfully I had the morning newspaper to read. It didn't contain anything super important about the local, state, or national news besides the usual negative views on the healthcare, education development, natural disasters around the world; nothing about someone local doing a good deed and being recognized. Sometimes I question about my career of choice. I ate slowly and barely paid any attention to the news; I was too preoccupied on my dream from the night before. Was there some clue I was missing? Something so vital it had to make itself known through my dreams? Whatever the case may be, it'll show its true meaning sooner or later.

Lunch was finally over and so kids were ready to learn, well not completely since they were so rowdy but ready enough that we could learn some math. Today I taught them how to add double digits. We spent a lot longer on that than I had thought but after about a dozen or so examples, they finally caught on and were able to do their homework in record time. After all the papers were turned in, I told them it was time to read, which would lead us up to the final bell. I asked which story they would like me to read and in the few moments that all were talking at once, I heard a number of times to have me tell them of another Irish story. I quieted them down before I began to tell the story.

A Legend of Knockmany (http://www.apples4theteacher.com/holidays/st-patricks-day/short-stories/a-legend-of-knockmany.html)

I was halfway done with the story when I noticed the children only had a few minutes left of the day. I told them it was time to pack up and that I would read the rest of the story the next day; the kids all whimpered because they wanted me to finish.

The bell rang and I took a sigh of relief. I took and cleaned the room and went to the office to retrieve any notices in my mailbox before I climbed in the car to drive home. It wasn't until I was halfway home that I thought about the dream.