Simplicity is Beauty

Dim, it was right about 3 am, the digital clock flashes red numbers across. All the while a man slouches over the counter, he seems exhausted. Is this perhaps a convenience store?

I looked around once more, shelves spilling with goods, the doorway being locked. Another locked door case, seriously?

“Uh, sir is there any way I can get out of here?” I asked the man that was slouching over the counter, exhausted.

 “No. The evil owner of this shop wont let anyone out until she gets her money. Buy something and pay up so we can finally close for today. Will you be a sweet dearie and buy something, SO I CAN FINALLY GET SOME SHUT EYE AND NOT BE DRIVEN TO MADNESS!?” He slammed his hands on the counter, his bloodshot eyes  shone through the dark like the stress adult he is.

“I uh…” I reached for my void like pocket. “Empty.”

The tired adult could only sit back at his seat feeling absolutely crushed as hope fades away in his eyes. “Don’t you young people these days get money from your parents?” He sighed rubbing his hands on his forehead stressfully.  “Not mine so far.” Sat I, back to the seat I occupied a second ago. 

Ten minutes has passed still no sign of progress. What if I break the glass door? Hm no I’d rather not, too much arm work. This store is boring. 

“Hi I’d like to buy a whole shelf of the sweets please.” Someone budged in the store. “What the—? Who buys a whole shelf of sweets.” I turned and saw the same boy as he was in my previous dreams. “Oh. It’s you.” This situation is too bizarre. He flashed a smile greeting me.

The tired man over the counter jumped and skipped along celebrating his freedom from the monstrosity of his boss. “I quit this place!” He yipped out of the counter and dashed out the streets. 

“Well I guess I’ll just leave the cash there and take the sweets for ourselves.” 

Finally going out of the hellish convenience store of boredom we strolled around the warmly lit street. It felt warm even if the evening breeze were to cross by the pedestrian lane. It might be because of the lights or because the sun with a blanket is walking beside me, who knows, these little mysteries are too mysterious for me to solve. 

“Why did you buy a whole shelf of sweets again?” I glanced down at the bag of sweets at my hands.“I’ve always wanted to do this as a kid, dreams are like wish granters of some sort. It gives you what you’ve always been desiring on about and then you wake up.” Explained he. 

“Now that you have what you’ve wanted are you going to wake up soon?” 

“Not exactly, when you find your wish fulfilled you stay content with it. Then you get up and search for more wishes. What about you? Do you have any wishes?” I was silent once again, I haven’t thought about it.

Simple wishes? No idea.

Would you want to peer deeper? 

Another black hole was encountered as I walked straight without thinking, eventually loosing sight of the night street. It seems that our time together was once again cut short.

“Good morning.” 

Awoke

Green, it was on about everywhere, so is the sound of a rowdy crowd conversing between itself. 

Am I back at my old school? 

The uniform felt tight as last time, it limit’s one’s movement. We were down at the school’s spacious lobby where we would idle around and wait for our teacher to assign us to our classrooms. 

Nostalgia, yes for a fact I know, I’ve dreamt of many things that took place here, although most of them were unpleasant. Mostly it’ll be about students being mindless beings that starves for academic validation as I’ve observe from the reality of the school. 

Through this I’ve learned, that grades are but a system of numbers.

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

It was when I realized, “after graduating how will we keep feeding that crave for high honors? The adult world is surely a lot more hard to live on. And if the mindset you have in mind goes like: ‘After I graduate I will start living my life’ would it be too bad if I start living my life right at this very moment?  

Scales wont be able to measure the weight of the human soul’s potential, for they take on many forms and shapes in a matter of seconds. 

Now don't get me wrong, I say “mindless students” not to downgrade those who are aiming for high grades or say what they’re doing is wrong, it is but a matter of opinion, most of the time they want those numbers so they could take it home and receive praise from their mothers and fathers. 

True, it feels nice, thats why I cant really convince the students that broke down in this school, my views on academics because all of it leads back home, back to where I can understand them, even by just the slightest. Still I want to free them of this feeling, so they no longer have to suffer. 

These are the type of thoughts that purge my mind every time I dream of this place, its a habit.

My train of thought came to a halt. Like a conductor the teachers called us to our classrooms— the classroom was back in my 3rd and 5th grade elementary years. The structure and size of the classroom was same as ever, as I remembered it, although the table arrangements were put in an odd one. 

It was lined up like a long dinning table, I sat in the ninth seat at the right side of the table. 

The teacher came in and as I went to grab my notebook in my bag I was greeted by a familiar face. “Oh my god! You scared me.” I exclaimed. Again it was him.

“You’re here too?” said in whisper yell. He simply nodded and smiled, settling himself in the tenth seat at the right side. The class started vaguely, I could barely remember what the teacher was muffling on and on about.

Paper, I received from the tenth seat.

What does he want?

The paper states: “when are you going to wake up?” 

I put the note down and wrote back, 

“Dunno maybe, if the sun were to burn my eyes.” 

“Some students are starring at us.” 

“I could see that.”

“Do we look suspicious?” 

“Apparently passing notes between students either mean we’re flirting or planning the destruction of the earth.” 

“Oh. But we’re not talking about either of those.” 

“Yeah, I don’t even know your name.” I wrote back, he took a good second starring down the paper. 

“I could tell you my name if you want.” He whispered. “What about you, do you know my name?”

“No—? The teacher is slowly approaching now.” Swiftly I slipped the note down the table.

“You two at the back! If all you wanna do is talk in my class I’ll have you out in the sun so you could talk there.”

Out we go, not a trace of shame or embarrassment on our faces, it doesn’t really matter after all. “Aren’t they a little too harsh to make students stand under the sun this long?”

“Hah okay, white boy.”

“Pardon?” He was holding back his laughter.

“We live in a tropical region, so pretty common to get this amount of sun, it’s alright though you’ll get used to it.” 

“Seems...pretty understandable then.” It’s odd how he is willing to adapt that quickly.

“Oh someone’s out of the classroom as well.” It was mister fern eyes.
“You two as well?” He said surprised.
“Yep.”
“For what?”
“Passing notes. You?”
“I was throwing paper airplanes, eventually it hit the back of a girl’s head, and then she started throwing a fit.” He sighed. Simple misconducts such as these aren’t easily so forgiven at this school. 

The sun greeted our faces, surprisingly the sun’s rays wasn't uncomfortable—in fact, it felt nice, like a warm hug—and not hot knives piercing through the pores of your skin. 

Soon after, a kindergarten teacher approached us. She stated something about making use of our time and setting an example for the kids type of speech. 

So we plucked up our watering cans and moved on to the garden, although the dream soon ended for the soft sun in the dream was the real sun that watches upon the morning of my window sill.

“Good morning.”