Of Distant Lands and Homely Fiction

It's been a while since I could remember a dream, though luckily, I find myself taking in more than usual about the images I find during my slumber as of last night.

Part I: Career Day

I found myself at my High School. The hallways were all rather accurate to how they were realistically, if not slathered with posters, pictures and decorations of a lot of different things, most of them famous men, women and children who all specialized in specific positions.

I walked with two of my friends--one an Asian kid named Eric, always had this huge mole under his chin, and my friend Gabriel, a boy with fair, wavy hair and a cherub-like face. We walked in this hallway, somewhat crowded but not too packed at the same time. I assumed it was some sort of career day of sorts, and so I looked for something that piqued my interest.

Along the way, I saw a poster of lead guitarist and singer of the 90's band Nirvana, Kurt Cobain. The picture was of him, singing and playing guitar in black and white. I touched this poster, and then I looked to my left. Kurt Cobain was coming at me with a butcher's knife, something out of a campy horror movie. I didn't attempt to run, perhaps too perplexed by the fact that Kurt Cobain somehow rose from the dead. He pounced me onto the ground, grabbing the handle of his knife with both hands and raising it in the air. I kept shouting "No!" over and over again, but he then pushed his knife right into my chest. What's odd about this is that I did feel a bit of pain as the blade stuck into my chest.

Things went black, but as suddenly as that happened, I was back in the hallway. I was now with my brother, looking much like himself, strangely. People were leaving and we were getting our backpacks from a pile in the middle of the hallway. I didn't understand why, but my brother had apparently put some very important items for a project in my backpack, though I was unable to find my backpack.

They said it might be in another room, and if it wasn't, it was stolen. We checked that room -- no dice.

I was lead to believe that my backpack was stolen. That was when I woke up briefly.

Part II: The Chaser

Not long after, I fell asleep again, the dream following connecting itself to the last dream I had.

I was now hell-bent on finding my backpack, though I only acted on it when my mother was driving me home from school, parked at a gas station on an early summer morning. I then found myself becoming a badass biker dude going along a California coastline; palm trees and the blue skies and oceans passing by me like a big blur. There were a few cars and bikers that passed by me. Though I knew they were enemies, they didn't really do anything to actually threaten me, nor did I do them.

I followed these "enemies" until I reached a beach, where we stopped. I told their boss, a man dressed in a cliche leather jacket with a short-cut Elvis hairdo something rather intimidating; intimidating enough to make him give me my backpack back. My brother was suddenly with us, and there he retrieved a medium sphere that looked like the shape of a planet. He smiled and looked at me, making some cheesy joke about how I was lucky to have gotten this thing back, or else. Then we laughed and the dream ended.

Notes:

That pain that I felt when Kurt Cobain stabbed me was rather significant.
I've rarely gone that fast as I did on the motorcycle in a dream before.

Interpretation:

Gee, I really don't know what to think of a dream where I get killed by one of my favorite musicians and chase a man on a motorcycle to get my backpack back. Perhaps, leisure is killing me and I focus too hard on school.