of book binding and agility.

It begins in a classroom, with non-descriptive kids all around. They have faces but act as placeholders, I suppose. We are at out desks, trying to do this complex math problem. It involves using a silver mirror positioned above our heads, using a glass globe to refract the light at a specific angle, onto graph paper that has a circle drawn around the x and y axis. The professor is explaining it as if it is the easiest thing in the world to do, yet I cannot come to terms on how to do it. After a while of frustratingly trying to write numbers along the axises, I give up and leave the room. The teacher yells to me that I will fail if I do not complete this problem, and I continue walking.

I am outside in the lawn in front of the school building. A friend of mine asks if I brought the right materials, and I look under my arm and I most certainly did: a beautiful maroon cloth with an intricate design embroidered onto it. I lay it down on the ground, and it stretches out to be about 8 feet by 11. We begin tucking, stretching, tucking, stretching. A bunch of things that don't seem to make sense for this process, but in the end I have a thick, beautiful looking book. This class' professor comes up to me and pats me on the shoulder. I open the book, pleased with myself, and am shocked to find words already written. As I try to focus on what it says, everything fades, and I feel tired.

When I look up from the book, I am sitting in a room, watching my cousin's two 4 year old children. They are running around the room, laughing and playing. Merak, the oldest of the twins, sits on a chair next to me and looks sad. I ask him, "What's wrong buddy?", to which he puts his hand up to his mouth, looks around the room slowly and sighs. He says to me, "I am trying to figure out who I am. What am I?"

at this point I wake up, long enough to roll over a moment and realize I am alone in bed.

I am in a gymnasium, but it is very sterile white. There are two walls really close together, running parallel, padded with soft cushion up along the walls. There is a small gap on the wall to my right. A tall, handsome man walks up to me. He has a large nose, dark eyes and dark hair. He is also wearing a dark grey cotton suit. He begins telling me that the rumors of him telling people to fight with grenades is taking way out of proportion; that what he said was simple a metaphor. He turns around immediately, runs to the end of the parallel walls. "I am working on my own stunts this time around", he says as he runs at a wall, runs along the wall, jumps into a flip and lands gracefully on a stool. I attempt to do the same, but fail at running along the wall. I tell him it is harder for me to do this on this side of the wall, that I am left handed and it would be easier for me to try it on the right wall. He smiles at me and says, "ah, I know this. Thus making the challenge worthwhile." Inspired, I give it a few more goes, but still cannot run along the wall long enough. Frustrated, I lean against the opposite wall and say "dog gone it", where immediately the dark haired man and a red headed woman walk up to me in surprise. The girl said "I didn't know you knew dog speak". The man puts his hand on my heart, smiling again, and tells me "If that is true, you can see things for as they are." Almost sudennly, whenever people start to speak, the words form in front of their mouths as if printed on paper. But even more suddenly, the words stop being what the people are saying, and more tend to describe how they are. One lady has "fish" written in front of her mouth, as water bubbles (that also look as if they are drawn on paper, kind of pasted over the image one may say?) came out of gills on her neck. (also, drawn). Another girl had "cat eyes" in front of her face, and over her actual eyes were drawn cat eyes. Everything was getting brighter, until it faded to white completely.