ErraticHopper

I enter my school's sixth form building late at night. As I head down the hall towards the dining area I can't see anything around. The hall is black carpeted and so is the larger room. The usual round tables are nowhere to be found and the serving counter is lower and farther forward than it is in real life. It's made of smooth white marble. The fridge is also shifted to the left. Though not quite real, the room is easily recognisable.

Nobody is around, but I get the impression a big gathering has just ended. Everyone else has probably gone upstairs already. (Seems like this is a dormitory in the dream - IRL there are only classrooms upstairs). There are lots of desserts left over.

On the counter are two large slate trays, each piled with jelly cut into cubes and stacked. One tray holds red jelly and the other, yellow. In the fridge is another tray of orange jelly and a cake liberally piped with cream on the top and around the sides. A few slices have already been cut out. Pitchers of clear juice or squash are on the shelf, one cherry-pink and one orange. I love desserts. I'm thrilled and head over to fill a plate.

I am really annoyed that I don't remember anything more! I've yet to taste food in a dream, still.

I'm lying in bed, because I'm sick again. My parents had gone out for a walk in the woods or something like that, I feel like they've been out all day. When my dad gets home he comes into my room and sits on the edge of my bed.

He tells me that my mum is dead. She fell down in the woods and died. I think of my mum falling onto a pile of sticks, breaking her leg. He tells me that the funeral has already been held.

I can't believe this. I ask him how he could have held a funeral without me - in one afternoon? I protest that I wanted to see her one more time but my dad himself has a distraught look on his face. I think that maybe he couldn't bear to wait. I'm in shock but I feel tears sliding down the sides of my face, wetting my ears. 'How old was she?' I ask, '58? 59?' We share the feeling of her being too young without having to say anything.

"Try not to think of her body," my dad says. "It disappeared in the fire I burned her in... Think of her soul." I think of a flaming wooden funeral pyre.

Some time later, there are lots of people over at my house. I seem a lot younger here than I really am. The adults stand talking with my dad and they each drink a vial of liquid that is supposed to make them the opposite of drunk. Some kids climb up onto my bed and we discuss that drink, agreeing that it is evil. We drink something that makes us hyper before knocking us out.

The news hasn't really sunk in yet, but when I wake up the next morning while everyone is getting ready to leave, I look out of the window at the bright blue sky and it makes me wail and cry out. "I want my mum back!" I say it twice and my dad tries to comfort me, but he doesn't say anything.

I changed my mind about posting the lucid. I can't piece together the sequence of events and have literally been agonising over it for more than a month which has been causing me to slack off on practicing (trivial, I know). So I've decided to forget all about it. It wasn't even an interesting dream!