A Wet Dream
The teacher, arms akimbo, was innocuously tongue-lashing at the kids. The kids were dripping wet. Beads of mixed sweat and river water covered the expressions of their faces, so it was hard to tell from their faces if they’re sorry or not. Was I really seeing this? One of the kids was me, seven or eight years old. I was the only one who was fully clad. All the other four or five kids, half-naked, wore only black shorts made heavy and blacker by the river water they absorbed. Black shorts were probably our uniform for I was wearing that, too. A wet, white shirt was on me, though.
I can’t remember exactly the monologue of the teacher. I can remember only bits and pieces now:
“You know, in my time …”
"The river is dangerous. Who told you to swim during class hours?” To this, I had an answer which I kept in my head: “No, the river is beautiful. People and animals like cattle, big fishes, even reptiles swim together in harmony all day.” I didn’t see such scene in the dream. The image just played in my mind.
She continued her funny, animated lambasting, which turned into a dramatic soliloquy, until the last molecule of river water that had wet on our skins or absorbed in our shorts and shirt dried up. When she stopped, the kids gave her a concert of yawns so blatant that I actually saw their tonsils which looked like stalactites desperately drooping from the roofs of a dark cave. Disappointed, she wheezed. The kids, I included, didn't care. A kid girl gave her a glass of water. Was the girl there all the time the teacher was scolding us? As if on cue, the moment she finished her oration, the girl appeared and played her role. Then I woke up, my back wet with sweat.
{May 21, 2009}
I can’t remember exactly the monologue of the teacher. I can remember only bits and pieces now:
“You know, in my time …”
"The river is dangerous. Who told you to swim during class hours?” To this, I had an answer which I kept in my head: “No, the river is beautiful. People and animals like cattle, big fishes, even reptiles swim together in harmony all day.” I didn’t see such scene in the dream. The image just played in my mind.
She continued her funny, animated lambasting, which turned into a dramatic soliloquy, until the last molecule of river water that had wet on our skins or absorbed in our shorts and shirt dried up. When she stopped, the kids gave her a concert of yawns so blatant that I actually saw their tonsils which looked like stalactites desperately drooping from the roofs of a dark cave. Disappointed, she wheezed. The kids, I included, didn't care. A kid girl gave her a glass of water. Was the girl there all the time the teacher was scolding us? As if on cue, the moment she finished her oration, the girl appeared and played her role. Then I woke up, my back wet with sweat.
{May 21, 2009}
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