11/9
October, cutting class to go see a soccer match in the woods. I’m not sure the year, or the place, but I am in a uniform for a red plaid pencil skirt that comes down past my knees, and everything feels homey, and welcoming.
In the woods, walking tiny footpaths, I freeze when I see a combination of a character from a soap opera-the actor who plays him-my loathed AP US teacher, who is also cutting class to see this match, wrapped up in a similar tartan. In this dream, he is not cruel or unkind, but a nice guy, and we both agree we never saw the other here. Another teacher comes up, his boyfriend, and we all chat for a few minutes before the game begins, at which point I am distracted by hearing a low voice calling for me.
I fumble through brambles, then traipse over tall grass, before coming to a large beige house, completely emptied, and plushly carpeted. I sit by a bay window, and watch the throngs of people journey further into the woods to see soccer. Some people come to see me in the house, people I have never met, but we sit around and smoke and sing, and then I fall asleep as it begins to rain.
