I am in a classroom. It’s a grade school classroom, perhaps 5th or 6th grade, but I am older as are most of the students. We seem to be in our mid teens - 15 or 16. The teacher treats us as if we are 5th or 6th graders.
Today we are to give our holiday skits. We are arranged in a large semi-circle, several rows deep. There is a space in the middle of the semi-circle in which each of us is to perform our skit.
I am at one end of the semi-circle. I haven’t prepared a skit and find the entire process embarrassing and enraging. I don’t want to be called to perform. I try to be unseen and even to appear sick so as to avoid being picked to perform.
My childhood bully, OA, is in the class. He is sitting near me. He is throwing little bits of paper at me and is taunting me. This makes the class all the more unbearable.
A classmate is selected to perform. She does a dance celebrating the holiday season. I want to scream. I am so enraged by the entire situation - the classroom, the performances, the time of year, the taunting by OA.
I am in a house. It’s not my house. Perhaps I’m house sitting for someone. OA arrives at the house and rings the doorbell. I don’t answer. He goes around to the backyard and tries to taunt me through the windows. I go out into the backyard. He wants to fight. We are near a stack of lumber. I pick up a long piece of the lumber and being beating him with it mercilessly. I beat him to a bloody pulp.
I am back in the classroom. OA is there as well. He is bandaged and clearly is in pain. I am still enraged at being in the classroom but I am pleased at how docile OA is now that I have severely beaten him.
The dream ends.
