Here be dragons

I'm in a classroom. The ceiling is incredibly tall, and the windows match, long and narrow. It's overcast outside, the sky white and the colors intense in the gray light. The teacher, a young woman with brown hair and a long, white knitted cardigan is writing on the blackboard. She turns around and sees me, gently telling me to take a seat, but not on the right hand side, because there's snow. I can't believe it and go take a look a the old school desks. All the desk right in front of the window are covered with a thin layer of snow. I gather some in my hand, making a loose ball. I notice that there isn't any snow on the ground outside and wander to the other side of the room, where the teacher is opening the other window. It makes a cold breeze, and I hug the wall to protect myself a little. There is a group of man outside, kneeling and bowing in the grass. One of them gets up, turns around and starts yelling in a language I don't understand to the teacher, and I think to throw the snowball at him, but she's still smiling and I understand that this is a religious ceremony, so I try to be respectful and get my snowball for myself. I point out to the teacher that since there's snow in the classroom, we should take the kid elsewhere. She agrees and we step out of the building with her class, all of the bundled up in big winder coats and long scarfs. As I walk I get a little sidetracked when a herd of sheeps walk past me, pulling a pretty wooden sleigh painted in dark green, with golden accents and red velvet cushions. The driver is a dwarf man, who gives me a wink as they pass. Now, there's snow everywhere, pilled on the corner of the streets by the crowd. I get inside a coffee shop and the class and teacher are here, busy getting hot cocoa and big, fluffy mashmallows. It's a old place, mostly made of wood, with a long bar and a low, slopped ceiling.