It is the only class I am tired. It is the only class I struggle in. One tired class with tired minds and closing eyelids like mine. One class I should be awake but are not. One boring mindless class of the day. From my desk, I see the board, but I just doze off and don’t pay attention.
My alertness is transparent. I see vivid images within my dreams. My dreams fade in and they fade out and mix reality within the colorful dreams and tear apart the happy world with boredom and it never ends. This is how they are.
Let me remember the things in class, For they’re encrypted like codes for the military, each dream with it’s own decryption key. Sleep, sleep, sleep they whisper when I’m awake. They preach.
When I am too worried and too confused to keep sleeping, when I am merely a dreamer against responsibility and reality, then it’s I who looks at awake. When there’s nothing left to happily dream in this fictional world. One who passed despite sleep. One who pushed and do not forget to push. One who is to be or not to be.