I was back in high school, but rather than attending Viewmont High I was going to a private school where uniforms were necessary. Although I was in high school I was still living in my apartment that I'm in now but with all different roommates, none of whom I know, but I seemed to be good friends with them all. Well, there was a cute boy that went to my school and he was throwing the biggest party of the year this Friday night. It was the kind of party that if you didn't attend, you would be forever classified as a nerd and no longer socially acceptable to associate with. And on top of that, I had a crush on this particular boy. That Friday at school, while dressed in my school uniform, the principal walked up to me and started screaming at me because my skirt was too short and told me that if I didn't get it fixed I wouldn't be able to go to the party that night. And the cute boy that I was crushing on heard the whole thing. I was so embarrassed and unable to fix my short skirt that the party was out of the question for me. I was perfectly devastated and walked to my apartment with tears streaming down my face.
As I walked into my bedroom, ready to throw myself on my bed and wallow in self pity, my roommate stopped me in my tracks: she was holding a gun and pointing it right at me. My hands flew up in the air and I tried to understand what she was doing but mostly talk her out of killing me. Apparently, the waitress at the restaurant had put hot fudge rather than carmel on her ice cream sundae and she felt justified in killing all of her roommates in a frantic rage because of the inconvenience she had caused her. I couldn't talk her out of pulling the trigger and seconds later I laid writhing in agony over the bullet that was implanted into my stomach. But, didn't you hear? I'm superwoman and it takes more than one bullet to stop me. She went into the other room and pulled the trigger on my other two roommates, but same story with them, one bullet is nothing. She then went into her own room to work on some homework while we sat there bleeding. The three wounded roommates made our way to the stairs and called 911 and when the crazy roommate heard she came out with the gun and tried to put a second bullet in us. Luckily, she had used all of her bullets and ended up throwing the gun down in frustration. When the police arrived, they immediately healed us with the wave of their wands and a little spell. It was very Harry Potter-esque. Then they turned to our violent roommate and told her what she had done was wrong and if she did it again she would have to stand in the "time-out" corner for 30 seconds. Understandably, the three of us were a little nervous to be around her and gathered in a different room than her and decided that the appropriate way to 'get back' at her would be to give her the silent treatment for the rest of our lives. Harsh, I know.
Well, then my brother Alex called to see if I wanted to meet up with him and Allie for dinner. I told him I did and that I had a crazy story to tell them. I recounted to them that just 20 minutes earlier I had been shot and nearly died and they offered a sincere "I'm sorry" but then told me that dinner would have to be cancelled because their friend had a wedding reception that night. The friend's wife had a strange disease that caused her to throw up every 12 minutes which lasts for three days, by the end of the third day, the victim of this disease dies. They had 24 minutes until the end of the third day and they wanted to meet their friend's new wife before she passed away. Hence, dinner had to be rescheduled.
As I walked home, feeling a little down on myself after having been yelled at at school and forced to miss the cool party that night, shot by my roommate, rejected by my brother and sister-in-law, and informed of this heinous disease that someone was knowingly going to die from in 24 minutes, I walked past the house of this cute boy where the party I was forbidden to attend was being held. The principal was the bouncer of the party and under no circumstances would let me in. Unfortunately everyone there came to the windows and started pointing and laughing at me (kind of reminded me of what I picture the great and spacious building to be like in Lehi's dream). And I was known as the social reject for the remainder of my high school career.
And then I woke up and have been a little depressed ever since. I was curious as to why I would dream something so morbid and did a little googling. According to dreammoods.com dreams are an outlet for suppressed feelings and a place for anger and negative emotions to be expressed. Apparently, subconsciously I'm a little nervous about being the social reject in high school, getting a gun pulled on me by my roommate, and having someone die after three days of ralphing. Pretty legitimate fears I would say. It also said that if you die in a dream, you will die in real life. Good thing I'm one tough chick and a single bullet couldn't take me down or I wouldn't be here to tell the tale. And it said that the average person has 3-5 dreams a night but some have up to 7. It's a good thing I only remember one a night or I would be completely overwhelmed with my crazy dreams.
I actually died in a dream, and the dream kept going, and yet I'm still alive.
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