Nicolás approached me. “¿Quieres jugar el topao?”
I smiled. He asked if I wanted to play el topao, which looked like a game of tag.
“Sí.” I got up and started running among them.
Soon the tallest boy tagged me. “¡Te agarre!” Then he raced off. Tag was the same regardless of your native language. I was now it.
I pretended to run my fastest but often let the boys narrowly escape me. I touched one child. “Um…te agarre.” I must’ve gotten the words correct because he didn’t miss a beat and started chasing another boy.
After a few minutes, I began to shout, “¡Te agarre!” and copied a couple of their phrases such as “no me puedes agarrar,” which I guessed meant you can’t catch me, and “corre mas rápido,” which meant run faster. They yelled some other phrases, but I couldn’t quite decipher the meanings.
Fifteen minutes later, the boys stopped running and began to dig in the sandbox. By then I was soaked in sweat. I took it as a chance to check on the girls. I approached the one fiddling with a stick. My confidence higher, I introduced myself. “Hola. Soy Otoño.”
She turned and smiled shyly. “Hola. Soy Ana.”
Ana drew pictures in the dirt and would turn to me with her eyebrows raised and brown eyes twinkling. Aside from una casa—a house—I didn’t know the Spanish equivalents. I must’ve butchered more than a few words because some of my guesses made her burst out in laughter. Then I took the stick and began to sketch. After each picture was complete, Ana spoke the Spanish word. I sketched some of the Spanish nouns I’d studied over the past six weeks, but many of my pictures were of objects I didn’t know the translation, so I learned several new words.
After a while, Isabel approached with a jump rope. “¿Quieres jugar con nosotras?”
“Soy Otoño. Sí, quiero jugar con ustedes.” I took one end of the rope, and we swung the rope together while the third girl jumped.
The girls recited a gleeful song. “¿Uva, pera, manzana y arroz a los cuantos años me casaré yo? Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, siete, ocho, nueve, diez…”
Most of the song was counting, and they’d count until the jumper tripped over the rope, but I had no idea what the beginning meant. I could’ve sworn it had something to do with an apple.
The girls alternated turns jumping. I tried once, but they were too short to twirl the rope high enough for me. Every once in a while, the tune and lyrics changed. I gleaned a word here and there but mostly hummed along.
Before long, the woman returned. “Gracias, Otoño. ¿Cómo estuvieron los niños?” I was grateful to understand she’d asked how it went.
“Bien.”
She rounded up the children and told them it was time to leave. Their bodies slumped, and a couple shouted, “¡No!” But then they each filed by me saying, “Adios.”
Not a minute later, I was snug in my dorm room bed. When Aditi woke, I asked if she had the same dream. She hadn’t. Instead, she’d had a completely different dream…in French.
Chapter: 15
Ms. Jenson walked through the classroom, passing out papers. “I’ve finished grading your Tom Sawyer essays. I have to say, I’m impressed.”
She placed mine facedown on my desk. I flipped it over, and a bright red A shone up at me. A satisfied smile spread across my face, and I scooted straighter in my chair.
“Now, I’d like to switch gears. We’re going to take a break from studying the classics. Instead, we’ll focus on our own creative writing.”
Finally! I’d been dying to write stories again, but I’d been too busy with all my homework. Besides, I couldn’t access my online writing community through Dickensen’s network anyway so hadn’t had as much motivation.
“This class will begin to tie in with Creative Core. As you may have guessed, these stories will become your first dream assignments.”
The class erupted in cheers, and a spike of adrenaline shot through me.
Once we settled down, Ms. Jenson continued. “I will guide you on the story script while Mr. Robbins will advise you on setting design and the process of breaking it into components as he teaches you the fundamentals of conveyance. This first dream will be a simple interaction with your roommate.”
I locked eyes with Aditi and grinned.
“Let’s get started.”
****
When I entered the Creative Core art studio, all the chairs had been moved from our desks to the back of the room where they were arranged in a circle facing each other, half of them occupied by my classmates chatting eagerly.
I slipped into the seat next to Hannah. “What’s going on?”
“No idea.”
Mr. Robbins stood outside our circle of sixteen. “I heard you began creative writing in language arts today.” He smiled. “It’s about time! And time for us to make a shift as well. In a couple of weeks, we’ll begin dream conveyance.”
We all clapped. Ryan whistled.
“It’s going to be fun, but it’s going to be a lot of work. Conveying is not as simple as memorizing a list of steps. You’ll also need to learn to focus without your mind wandering. Now for some of you, that process will come naturally. However for most people, it’s a challenge. I have an exercise to illustrate this point.” He told us to concentrate on anything in the world besides a polar bear for one minute. And of course, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t block polar bears from my mind.
“I have two basic meditative exercises to improve your focus. I’d like to spend our remaining time today walking you through an example of each.”
He dimmed the lights. “The first is a breathing exercise. Please close your eyes.”
I closed them but shifted around in my seat. I hadn’t done anything like this since elementary school. I peeked. Several others had their eyes half-open and were stifling laughter.
“Okay, now keep your eyes closed and focus on your breathing.” Mr. Robbins spoke in a slow, soothing voice. “Breathe in and out, in and out. Concentrate on the natural rhythm of your breath. Feel the air fill your lungs and flow back out. Feel your chest rise. If your mind wanders, bring it back to your breathing.”
I inhaled and exhaled, quickly at first, but as my breath slowed, my mind wandered. I hope I did okay on my math test. This chair is too hard; they should buy more comfortable ones. I took another peek. The students across from me had their eyes closed, so I reclosed mine. I tried to refocus. My stomach rumbled. What snacks will they have in the dining hall this afternoon?
“Okay, that’s it. You completed your first five-minute breathing meditation.”
Five minutes! More like twenty.
“Was anyone able to focus solely on their breathing the entire time?” He chuckled when nobody raised his or her hand immediately.
Then Caitlyn spoke up. “It was easy. I’ve been meditating for years.”
Mr. Robbins nodded toward her. “Fantastic, Caitlyn.” He looked around the class. “I hope with practice all of you will soon meditate as well.”
I rolled my eyes then glanced at Hannah. Her eyes narrowed at her roommate.
“Now, let’s move on to the second type of exercise called guided imagery. Listen carefully and follow the directions.”
Our teacher put on a CD. Ocean waves filled the air. A woman’s calm voice talked us through relaxing on a beach. She had us focus on each of our senses, one at a time.
The soft sand squished between my toes.
My skin warmed with the sun.
The smell of salt drifted to my nose.
“Okay.” Mr. Robbins said when the CD went quiet. “Now open your eyes.”
Wow! Guidance made it so much easier. He flipped the lights back on. So blinding. I blinked several times to revive myself. A few more minutes and I would’ve fallen asleep.
After we moved our chairs to our desks, Mr. Robbins handed out papers with a list of meditation resources. “As homework for the next couple of weeks, I’d like you to spend at least ten minutes a day meditating
. We’ll devote class time to review your progress and identify potential solutions for the difficulties you encounter.”
Great. Just what I needed: more homework.
But as a dedicated student, I checked out the websites and downloaded a few meditation apps to my smartphone.
****
During my Sunday review session with Dad, I let it slip I was learning basic meditation in Creative Core. I braced myself for his response.
“You’re kidding. I think it’d be wiser for them to spend class time teaching the curriculum.” He muttered, “I guess that’s what you get with a private school.”
“Oh, Dad, things are different than when you went to school. And it’s not like we’re having religious discussions or anything. They’re just relaxation and visualization techniques.” Mr. Robbins had added visualization exercises to our homework this past week to train us to envision the minute details of our stories.
I gave Dad the sound bite I’d memorized from Mr. Robbins to be used in these situations. “Dickensen teaches meditation to help us increase our focus so we can perform better in school. For example, we could visualize acing a test or giving a speech…oh, and there are health benefits too, including reduced stress and better sleep.” In reality, who knew if these exercises would help me with anything besides conveyance? But anything to shut Dad up. “I think I’m already starting to see an improvement in my ability to focus.”
“Hmph, maybe a unique approach will benefit you. Clearly your mind works differently than mine.” He probably meant it as an insult, but I took it as a compliment. “Let me know if the time commitment becomes a burden. I don’t know about meditation, but I’ll admit, there are benefits to visualization. Although I’ve never heard of it being taught in high school. I often visualize the steps the night before a complicated surgery…”
My eyes opened wide as I pictured Dad in his home office reviewing his patients’ notes. I had no idea he was sometimes visualizing surgery techniques and found myself smiling and shaking my head. My good mood continued even as our conversation shifted to algebra.
Chapter: 16
As the month of October progressed, the concepts of dream reception, creation, and conveyance became a new normal, as if they’d always been a possibility. Life on campus was busy, and us freshmen couldn’t afford to dwell exclusively on Dream Management. I had tons of homework, research to complete, tests to prep for, and papers to write. The library was always packed.
Each week, I received multiple dreams from the faculty and staff. The playground dream was consistent, but each time I experienced it, I understood more words and conversed better in Spanish. Some of my classmates had moved on to more complex language immersion dreams, but I was still perfecting my interactions with Mr. Ortiz’s nieces and nephews in the Dominican Republic.
I also received dreams from my history and language arts teachers. Too bad math facts didn’t materialize in any—I could use an extra mnemonic. Even Coach Kat and Mrs. Humphrey conveyed dreams, both of which had nothing to do with school. Coach Kat sent me on a shopping spree with my girlfriends, and Mrs. Humphrey cast me on a Caribbean cruise with my entire extended family.
Although I enjoyed school more than ever before, I lived for the weekends when even studying didn’t seem so bad without the time pressure of Monday through Friday’s tight schedule. Fortunately, ever since Dream Management was introduced, it was rare to catch even an inkling of homesickness in the far reaches of my mind. And keeping busy prevented it from ballooning into anything more.
One Saturday afternoon, Ben found me in the library. “Hey, Autumn. Up to anything?”
I grimaced and gestured to the pile of books and papers in front of me. I had four pages of algebra homework and an upcoming Spanish test. That didn’t include finishing up an oil painting or the science research I had planned for tomorrow.
“Can’t it wait?” he asked. “I have something to show you.”
I bit my lip. Aside from the library, I hadn’t been alone with Ben in a long time.
He twisted his neck to study my books. “Spanish. We’ll get another dream tonight to help with that.”
I sighed. “If I don’t get kicked out.”
Ben raised an eyebrow.
“Last time, I ignored Nicolás’ warning and crossed the street from the park to the beach. Next thing I knew, I woke up in bed.” I had crossed a dream boundary. Mr. Robbins had encouraged us to learn to identify these subtle signs written into the scripts because this knowledge would allow us to remain in the dreams.
Ben laughed. “You’re terrible. Now just don’t go badgering little Ana to identify complex nouns. I heard that’s another good way to get booted.”
“Okay, no boundary exploration tonight. Spanish studying. Check.” I smiled. “Give me fifteen minutes to finish up this section of problems before I forget everything my tutor taught me today.”
“Meet me in the game room when you’re ready.” Ben turned to go but then spun back to me. “Oh, and wear something comfortable. And warm.”
Thirty minutes later, we were traipsing along the trail away from school. The air was crisp, and bright beams of sunlight filtered through the evergreens. A picture-perfect fall day. The birds filled the woods with song, and an occasional squirrel or chipmunk scurried across our path.
“It’s so pretty here,” I said. “I run these trails all the time but never have a chance to really look around.”
Ben nodded. “How’s cross country going?”
“Good. We’ve started weekly races. It’s kind of weird since we only run against our teammates.”
“I bet you’re doing great.”
I shrugged. “I’m doing okay.” Hannah and I continued to push each other to improve our personal bests, and we were no longer the slowest but in the middle of the pack. Our progress was a definite confidence booster, and Coach Kat rewarded our efforts with ribbons and certificates I pinned to my bulletin board. Since I’d grown up with Josh’s golden trophies gazing down at me from the bookshelves, it was nice to discover a sport I was decent at.
I placed my hands in my pockets. “So…what did you want to show me?”
He fished through an orange nylon backpack and pulled out a large silver key, holding it up for inspection.
I reached for it. “What’s it for?”
“It’s a key to one of the gates.”
My mouth gaped. “Where’d you get it?”
“Not a big deal. Any of us can now check them out from the Rec Center. I just filled out a form stating where we were going and when we’d return. Oh, and this hiking backpack they gave me has some sort of GPS tracking device on it.”
I screwed up my face. “What for?”
“They said for safety reasons, in case we get lost or something.”
“Uh-huh.” Was that the only reason? After keeping us in the dark about Dream Management until mid-September, I questioned much of what the faculty told us. For the most part, my fears had proved unfounded. Even the doors to the sophomore wing were no longer locked at night. Now my fear of students being held on campus against our wishes faded too—they trusted us to leave. But were they tracking us?
Ben led the way, veering off the main path and onto a narrow one, occasionally checking a map that pinpointed multiple gates. The smaller trail was overgrown, and we had to push aside some of the sword ferns and Douglas fir seedlings.
The massive steel gate was the same type as in my ecosystem dream, although it was easier to see in the daylight. It would lead us through both the chain-link and electrical barricades. A more distant memory of passing through this specific gate with Principal Locke and my classmates returned to me.
“Be careful,” I said as Ben reached toward the lock embedded in the steel.
He laughed. His natural confidence had returned after weeks of paranoia. He inserted the key and pulled it open. “After you.”
I released the breath I’d been holding when Ben didn’t get flung back from the ele
ctrical current. I’d definitely watched too many movies. Then I had to chuckle, loving how Ben acted like a gentleman even out here in the woods.
The trail continued beyond the gate. Although still overgrown, we followed it easily.
“Shouldn’t we be worried about wild animals out here?” I asked in an unsteady voice.
Ben shook his head. “I’m sure the fence is for people. Reporters would have a heyday with this academy. And I suppose it keeps the freshmen locked up until we’re deemed trustworthy.”
I laughed nervously. “But a side benefit has to be keeping out bears and stuff.”
“I’ve been hiking for years with Jim, my step-dad. We only have black bears in Washington. As long as we make noise and don’t surprise them, we’ll be fine.” He smiled encouragingly. “Besides, there’s some pepper spray in the pack. Just in case.”
My posture relaxed. Relying on a teenage boy’s bravado wasn’t as reassuring as a true means of protection.
After about a mile, we came to a patch of deciduous trees mingled in with the evergreens. I stopped to take it all in. Could this be a dream? I doubted I was asleep but had a hard time believing this was real. The setting was the same as in Principal Locke’s conveyed hiking dream. But this time, with Ben. Alone.
“The leaves on these trees are beautiful,” he said.
I nodded. “Ever been to the east coast?”
“Nope.”
“You should see fall in upstate New York, near my grandma’s.” I began to gush about my family, telling stories and sharing experiences. Outside the gate, my mind was somehow lighter and opening up was easier. While we chatted, we descended toward the mountain lake. It measured about a quarter mile across and reflected the blue sky and surrounding treetops, like a giant mirror. We sat side by side on a moss-covered log and continued to talk.
Dickensen Academy Page 10