Dream of: 20 June 1985 "Turning Into A Cat"

As a student in a high-school classroom,I was trying to figure out whether I was in the eleventh or twelfth grade and I finally concluded that I was probably in the twelfth grade. I had returned to high school because I had never actually finished high school before beginning college, even though I knew it was unnecessary to now return.

The other students and I were sitting on long benches which resembled church pews. I was sitting in the back of the room. The students were supposed to be listening to a German phonograph record. I, however, was occupied reading an interesting, classic English novel.

The teacher, Dawson, walked back to where I was and spoke to me. When I responded, he began scolding me for reading the book. I didn't become angry; I decided it would be best to simply shut the book, which I did. I sat quietly as Dawson continued to vent his anger. He seemed to have something against me personally and he wasn't merely upset because I had been reading the book. Finally he walked away and left the room.

The class dismissed, all the students left and I went to the toilet to urinate. As I stood at the urinal, I opened and began leafing through another book which had pictures and seemed to be some kind of comic book. As I was reading the book, I looked to my left and saw Dawson standing next to me watching me. He was obviously upset because I was reading another book. I thought he was really carrying the matter too far.

I finished urinating, turned to Dawson and spoke to him. Rather angry, I told him he had no right to try to impose his standards on me; I explained that I had my own standards.

I looked at myself in a large mirror in the toilet. I was wearing shorts and my hair was rather long. It looked as if I hadn't shaved in a couple of days. Dawson, who himself appeared not to have shaved in about a day, said, "Just look at you."

I realized I was a bit untidy, but that was because it was the weekend. I would shave again on Monday and tidy up. As I started out of the room, Dawson suddenly began severely criticizing me again and pushed me. I wasn't going to do anything at first, but I began to think he had really gone too far. I became angry, thought about it for a moment and then pushed him back.

He fell backwards, left the toilet and began running down the hall. I looked away for a moment and when I looked back at him, I saw he had turned into a cat running down the hall.

I wanted to talk with someone and tell them what had happened. Since I knew someone working for the newspaper was in the principal's office, I picked up a nearby phone and dialed the number of the office. I asked if someone from the newspaper was there and someone responded, "Yes."

A woman came to the phone on the other end. I wanted to make sure she would be objective and asked, "Do you work for the school or for the newspaper?"

She was reluctant to tell me and I asked, "Well who pays your salary, the school or the newspaper?"

She answered, "Except in emergencies, the school."

I decided I didn't want to tell her what had happened because I didn't think she would be objective. So I said, "Thank you," and hung up.

I went back to the classroom where I found a fellow student whom I knew. I began telling him what had happened and tried to be as objective as possible about it.

I knew Dawson had some definite reason for not liking me but I didn't know exactly what it was.

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