After the Dream

I had a happy-ish dream last night. I was back in primary school, although judging by the age of those around me (schoolfriends), it was more like a repeat year for the leaving cert; we were all elder teenagers. The weather was so bad out, that we had closed heavy shutters over the large windows and so the playground, creating a classroom gloom. Mr Hodgins, my teacher from 5th and 6th class, was apparently our teacher in this scenario too, but for some reason he never turned up. We were unsupervised. Still we were fairly studious, or at least quiet. I for one was studying the class beauty, Rita Hayworth no less and at a school leaving age, who was sitting right in front and to the left of me. All was peaceful, nothing much was being done, and I actually felt calm and sure of myself, not feelings I have ever associated with school. Not unpleasant though any of this was, none of it was the happy bit though. No. Apparently the only one able to stand, I got up to go to the windows at the back of the class, meaning to look out at the oval sports field. I noticed something behind me though. My dead grandmother was resting in one of the bunkbeds in the corner. I went over. She was small and silent - she said nothing to me - but she had a healthy colour in her cheeks and she was smiling. I said something reassuring to her and she kept smiling. It was good to see her again, and happy, after all this time. And I woke up feeling I had.