Back to School (Again..)

I was in a classroom, my classroom, resembling a cross between my "home room" of high school, and my jr high / middle school science class. It leaned more toward the latter. The teacher, an older, slender man with graying black hair, had given an assignment, that I do not believe I had completed, if I remember correctly. Other students turned in papers. It was at the end of the class period, the bell rang (it was more of an electronic beeper over the loud speaker, which was standard during my high school year), but before I left, I met with three or four other teachers by the door, who were reading / reviewing the story I am currently in the process of writing. They were not thrilled with it, but did offer some words of encouragement. Particularly though, two or three of them began asking me questions in tandem, and I remember answering that I loved writing, and started back in the third grade. I'm not completely clear if I was deliberately lying, or just dreamfully forgetting that it was the sixth grade that I actually began to take a greater interest in imaginative compositions. They started offering tips and suggestions, but my attention began to drift out the door, I regret I did not mark their words, but instead I only remember my own, which was "practice?" I think they may have asked me what the three most important things are for becoming a good writer. Alas.

Then I was out in the hall, walking presumably to my next class. The left stem of my glasses had come loose in class apparently, and as i was walking, i become aware that the screw holding together the right had come loose as well. My brother was a little ways behind me, and I called to him to ask if he saw my glasses' stem and the screw to it. He must not have heard me clearly, for he cried, "what?" And it was then I felt the screw still in position, though completely apart, yet some how resting on a surface, though in fact they were still on my face. I pinched it together with my right hand and said, "nevermind." I walked on, my brother must have gone to another class, for I found myself alone and wandering around only semi-familiar territory of the school. I became less and less aware of where I was actually headed, and soon I was all but lost. But I kept on going, figuring it would eventually become familiar again. All the while I was thinking to myself, why am I still going to school? I'm 25 years old, I should have graduated by now. Funny thing is, in reality I'm actually around 33-34. But I digress.

I marched on, and as i was ascending a flight of stairs, I suddenly realized I was outside, it was summer time, and I was at the swimming pool to which we used to belong. A large number of my family members were there sitting by their towels and chairs on the grass around the baby pool.

I vaguely remember there was more to it than just this, but unfortunately this is the greatest of my recollections at present.

Curious though.