Weird dream, yo. It took place in this sci-fi world where people were highly biased by their skin color. There were wars fought between those with white and black skin (literally white and black. Not peach and dark brown!). There were documentaries made, glorifying the whites, and ridiculing the blacks as evil. Now, another war was brewing. I was on the side of the whites, which at this point just had incredibly pale skin. The blacks had more dark grey skin. However, I had the same color skin that I have now, just ordinary caucasian. I was ridiculed by those around me. I found friendship in a girl whose situation was even more dire than mine. Her skin had a purple hue.
The action began in a military training center not unlike the one in “Ender’s Game”. A bunch of typical teenagers, learning to become soldiers. Most didn’t really care, and made efforts to get out of the simulation practice. To get to the simulation, we had to ride on this hellish mockery of a monorail. We held on to these two vertical bars, but we had nothing to stand or sit on. And it went FAST. And there were these turns that would nearly throw you off due to the angular momentum. Once you started to slip, you had to hope that you would be really lucky.
Briefly, I was in a simulation group with James, Sirius, and Peter. I was Remus. We had gotten out of last week’s simulation using a hologram of our ship. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to control it very well, and those in charge became suspicious. Thus week, we planned to make them think that our ship was empty, so that they would return it to the hold. We were successful, until the very last bit, where Sirius (who was actually more like Riff, from Sluggy Freelance at this point) cheered when the ship reached the hold. From the viewscreens of the people in charge, he was barely seen, albeit briefly. One woman, who was notorious among the students for her strictness, and looked a great deal like one of the mission moderators at Advanced Space Academy, went off to find us. We had hidden in a bus, rejoicing at our good fortune. Surprisingly, she didn’t get mad at us. She lauded our cunning, expressing sentiments that she wished more students were as clever as we were. We expected her to snap at any moment, but she didn’t.
We returned to the dorms later, were I was myself again. We all wore these white blouses and purple skirts. However, I never received a blouse, so I had to walk around, Lisa Simpson-style, with a really long skirt acting like a strapless dress. I received a lot of grief over this, and eventually I snapped, searching all my hall-mates’ closets for extra shirts. Because no one really liked me except the purple-skinned girl, no one would give me a blouse. At that point, one of the boys’ groups got back from the simulation session, where a boy who looked like a messy-haired Chris Rankin told us how he had brilliantly gotten out of the simulation. All the girls on my floor and the guys who were visiting thought that this guy’s scheme was fantastic. Unfortunately, it was unrepeatable.
Later down the line, we had been through our first battle. We emerged virtually unscathed, and we had returned to the battle school. The next day, however, I noticed that people’s faces had changed. Everyone had a few pieces of glitter on their faces. Those that had killed or injured the most had the most glitter. The purple girl and I barely had any. I interpreted it as “loss of innocence” symbolism, or slowly losing what we interpreted as “good” and turning into “evil”. The glitter wouldn’t come off, no matter how hard one tried. After a while, the amount of glitter started reflecting (not literally) what they were like as a person. If they were cruel, they had lots of glitter. If they were kind, they had almost nothing.
Later on, I saw that Casey Potter was with us at the battle school. Much to my chagrin, our floor decided to put on a production of “Ten Little Indians”. Because Casey knew it would annoy me, I was to play Emily again. Once it was cast, we spent several hours arguing over whether the line was “pukka mahib” or “pukka sahib”. Aaargh. Then I woke up.
Why can’t I have dreams like this *before* the last week of NaNoWriMo?
