Details are a little spotty on this dream, because I forgot to take notes. It was crazy and kind of scary, so I’ll try my best to set the scene.
A few years ago, I was a residential counselor for the Boston Ballet Summer Dance Program. I lived with the students and was their R.A./camp counselor/mom away from home. Last night, one of my former residents friended me on Facebook, which might explain why, in my dream, I was a counselor for a similar summer program.
It was evening, and all the students and counselors were back at the dorms, which was actually more like a hotel. There had been some mysterious occurrences happening in their classrooms recently – things going on that could not be explained. Maybe it was a ghost haunting the school. Maybe it was a demon. For some reason, I was appointed the leader of the group who would get some answers.
It probably wasn’t an official assignment, at least not one authorized by my supervisors. We tried to do our best to keep all the students safe and follow some kind of protocol to prevent the supervisors from panicking. We set out for the school in two cars. There were three counselors including myself and at least ten students. I knew that we would have to do a roll call so we could notify the counselors and supervisors back at the dorms which students were on this excursion. Since we were already on the road, roll call would have to wait until we got to the school.
When we arrived at the school, we all gathered in one of the main classrooms where most of the unexplained activity had been taking place. Some of the students were listening to music on the radio as we settled in. They realized that this was a serious situation and wasn’t a time for fooling around. When they saw that the counselors had something to say, they immediately turned off the music, stopped talking, and listened for directions. We told them that we had to take attendance, and we would be texting their names back to the dorm. They gathered together, and we prepared to begin the roll call.
As we started reading off names, the windows in the classroom doors began mysteriously breaking, showering the kids with broken glass. Frightened, we huddled close, and the counselors attempted to shield the students from the flying shards. Though there only two doors, the glass kept coming.
I turned around to face the door and tried to see what was causing this event. Though I didn’t see anyone breaking the glass, I saw something else. Myself. I couldn’t see the person’s face, but it looked just like me from behind. This person was using her bare hands to tie six-inch water pipes into knots. Obviously, whoever was out there wasn’t exactly human.
Somehow, all the students and counselors made it safely through the night. I don’t know if someone rescued us or if the danger just subsided. One of my supervisors came to the haunted classroom, and I immediately went to her to apologize. “I’m so sorry. We were going to do a roll call so you would know who was with us, but when we started, the glass started shattering.” Surprisingly, my supervisor wasn’t worried about roll call. She was more concerned that we had left a senator dead on the floor inside that building.
That statement was just as confusing in the dream as it is now.