The Dream

By Adrija Bhaduri

I look down

As my teacher walks over

“You’re not real.”

She says.

Everyone looks up.

Forgetting all studies

And focusing on me.

Small and naïve us students are,

Always looking here and there.

Hoping to escape.

I quickly throw

All the pencils,

And pens,

Erasers and scales,

The textbooks,

And the notebooks

All away.

They fall,

On the ground.

A loud noise they all make.

I look up.

Everyone looks back.

I can’t breathe anymore.

I lose the fight.

I stop looking.

My head hurts.

I say.

But no one responds.

Please help.

I scream.

But no one listens.

The faces change.

They start laughing.

Mocking.

They aren’t real.

They aren’t real.

I succumb.

I close my eyes.

It’s quiet now.

I feel a cold wind.

I still feel those horrid eyes staring.

Voices continue to mock me.

But I have forgotten now.

Open are my eyes again

Wide but still unfocused.

I see my reflection in my mirror,

And I sigh,

With relief.

I wear my bag,

And leave my bedroom.

I eat some food,

And leave my house.

I go to school now.

Forgetting that,

No matter what I do,

No matter where I am,

The eyes follow.

They will always stare.

But now,

For now,

I glare back.

By Adrija Bhaduri