Heather's Dream

I know this was supposed to be a recent dream, but I’m moving too fast to remember my dreams lately.  Here is a particularly memorable dream I had when I was in high school.

My parents and I make our way into the crowded room.  We are a little late and the meeting has already started.  I look around and see many of my classmates sitting with their parents.  These are the best of the best from my prestigious high school.  One shows great promise in physics, another is already taking college chemistry and math classes.  My boyfriend, a future chemistry major himself, has saved seats for my parents and me.  We whisper apologies as we make our way in front of a row of occupied folding chairs and take our seats.  The room is cold and I shiver as I lower myself into a metal seat.           

“The greatest academic honor our government can bestow…” the speaker is saying.  He is dressed in a dark suit and tie, and is flanked by other similarly attired, sober-faced men.  The speaker praises the students in the room for their impressive achievements.  Parents beam and students’ faces flush with embarrassment.  My mother reaches over and places her hand over mine.  I look into her face and see that it is glowing with pride.  I feel a little exultant myself, to have earned a place among this group.  My talents do not extend to the sciences, like most of my fellow honorees, but I have distinguished myself in other areas, like writing and foreign languages.  I relish the pleasant feeling of having my accomplishments recognized and praised.

My wandering thoughts are interrupted as the speaker changes his theme.  He has finished congratulating the students in the room and is now explaining the honor we have earned.  I have been surveying the room and have missed his mention of the award itself.  It must be something very exciting, judging by the fascinated faces around me.  I am intrigued, but not enlightened by the phrases the speaker uses: “the greatest adventure” and “something the rest of us must wait years to experience.”  It is only when he begins to describe the process by which the honor will be bestowed that I realize, with horror, what is happening.

“It will be quite painless, I assure you,” the speaker intones.  “First, a sedative will be administered, and then, once you are all asleep, our nurses will deliver another injection, and you will be transported into the great unknown.  We have chosen the best and brightest young minds for this great honor.  We trust that your ingenuity and intelligence will guide you in your journey, and if possible, help you find a way to share what you learn on the other side.”

I try to take in what the speaker has just said.  I want to stand and run from the room, but first I look around for solidarity in the faces around me.  To my dismay, everyone looks as proud and excited as they did before the speaker announced we were all about to be killed.  My boyfriend looks especially enthusiastic and grins at me giddily. 

The meeting is apparently over.  Our parents hug us and pat us on back before they make their way out of the room through the door that we came in only a few minutes before.  I throw a panicked look at my own parents, and they smile at me and point in the direction of a door on the other side of the room that is being held open by one of the speaker’s companions.  Assuming I have misunderstood the situation, I say good-bye numbly and allow my boyfriend to lead me by the hand through the new door. 

We enter a room filled with hospital-style cots.  Students are milling around, looking for beds near their friends.  My boyfriend and I choose adjacent cots and sit down. 

“This is insane,” I whisper to him, “we have to get out of here.”

He looks at me incredulously.  “Are you kidding? This is the highest academic honor there is.  No one turns it down.  Your parents would be mortified.”

A nurse approaches him from behind.  He looks up and holds up his arm. 

“See, I’ll go first.  No big deal—trust me, you’re doing the right thing,” he says as he receives his injection.  Reluctantly, I hold my arm up as well.

I rub the sore spot on my arm and lay down on my cot.  Immediately I feel drowsy and see little dark spots dancing in front of my vision.  The panic inside of me starts to subside, and then surges to the surface again.

I sit up in the cot and shout, “Wait! I don’t want to die!” 

The little dark spots in front of my eyes begin to blend together and soon everything is black.