Dreamland

The girl beside me wore heels as well, but she seemed to have no trouble navigating the carpeted grounds. We were the last ones trailing a group of women who were examining a house. I had a vague feeling that it was large—larger than any I had ever seen—but I could only see the third floor right now. We were halfway up the stairs leading to another floor when someone in the crowd asked where we were going.

"Upstairs," said a guide. "Those are your rooms."

"Well, then that's not important," one of the women said. "Let's go downstairs."

The group agreed. They turned around and headed down once again, leaving the girl and me stranded on the staircase.

"Do you still want to go up?" She asked me.

"Yeah. I don't really want to go down right now."

I wobbled up the last few steps and landed in a bright, spacious room. It was green, with white carpeting, and it was so beautiful I had to pause for a moment to take it all in.

...

Amanda was by my side, and we were walking down the hallway. I thought that this was our school, but it was too dim and the path too crooked. I also still had my heels on, so I was half-hopping as I tried to move forward.

Not a pleasant sight. I made a mental note to myself to never, ever wear high heels unless absolutely necessary. My reveries were disrupted when I heard someone call out my name.

"Hi, Ginny!"

I looked up and saw Mr. Booth waving to me, in his typical cheerful manner. I waved back, still hobbling around due to lack of stability.

"Are you headed that way?" Mr. Booth asked, pointing down the hall. Well, was I? I had no idea. I did not even know where "that way" was. But I nodded nonetheless. I watched as Mr. Booth magically—and it had to be magically, because there was no way we could have traveled that far in such a short time—arrived at a pair of glass doors.

A group of people in yellow streamers stood on the other side, frantically waving at us. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but Mr. Booth ignored them and slipped through the doors. I was about to follow, but then I saw those yellow-streamered people pushing Mr. Booth aside and trying to shout something at me.

"Uh—I can't hear you," I tried to tell them. To no avail. They kept on waving around frantically.

"You're—no, I don't understand that—oh, wait, there's—huh? There's an infectious disease on the other side?"

Apparently they could hear me, because they nodded. Oh. Uh-oh. I wondered how Mr. Booth was faring, but I wasn't left any time to mull it over.

...

I was walking down another hallway, this time without my heels, thankfully. I didn't know where I was going, but it didn't matter, because Irving saw me halfway and called out to me.

"Hey, Ginny, can you do me a favor?"

"Sure," I said. "What is it?"

"Can you proofread something for me? I've got it here—wait."

Irving pulled out a kindle-like machine and handed it over to me. I saw the first page, which resembled the first page of a novel, except with blood splattered over it.

Hmm...

And then the alarm woke me up.

...

I have read somewhere, in a writer's do-not-do manual, that you should never, ever end a story with "...and then I woke up." Because that's such a no-no. No character growth at all. You end up just as you started.

Well, I guess real life isn't that good of a story-teller, because I have often ended many a story of my life with "and then the alarm woke me up" or "and then I just happened to wake up, despite not wanting to do so." There's never even a sequel.

Oh well. I suppose I'll be off to dream moods to figure out what my dream meant now.