I am in my old Reading classroom in middle school, but the room is way bigger and the windows are missing. It is also dimly lit and has only a few long tables for desks. I am part of the class but I am my actual adult age. There’s only a few people in the room, including the teacher who is unfamiliar and sits behind a smaller desk near the front of the room. One side has a boxing ring placed and there is a fighting tournament being held. I’m not sure if it is voluntarily, but I am one of the contestants and I plan on using my kickboxing(I used to take kickboxing lessons but haven’t in awhile; I definitely would never try to compete haha). Most of the other contestants are just regular school tweens: small and muscle-less, and untrained in any martial arts, so I feel confident about how well I will do. People who aren’t fighting are just lounging at their desks, waiting, and the teacher just sits reading a book and looking super bored. I pace around, keeping myself pepped up for fighting. Students fight in the ring now and again and the matches seem to end very quickly.
Then a very tall long-haired “student” comes into the room who very much does not look like a middle schooler. I think he even has a goatee. I also sorta have a crush on him. We sit down at one of the tables and he talks about the tournament. He is part of the tournament but is only doing it to fight a specific person in which he wants to get revenge with. He glares over at a scrawny kid with a shaved head. I look over at the boxing ring again and it has changed into more of a stage, with props and ramps and platforms. Two girls wearing Japanese school uniforms are “fighting” but it looks like they are laughing and just teasing each other. I don’t consider the fact I might have to fight the vengeful tall guy and despite the scene of giggling girls in front of me, I start to get second-thoughts about my ability to beat up middle-schoolers. I look down and see my feet are bare and realize I don’t even have gear, not even boxing gloves, am I just going to use my bare fists?? What if it isn’t as easy as I think and I’ll end up needing shin-guards? As all of this is running through my head the long haired guy leans over and kisses me on the neck, which I feel as very cold.
I panic a little, thinking my match will be coming up very soon. I tell Tall Guy to hold on a second and I get up to leave. I take out a white flip-phone to call Mom and beg her to bring my kickboxing duffel bag to school. I even envision the duffel bag sitting in the garage next to the punching bag. I think that it shouldn’t be a big deal to bring it because the house isn’t very far away (accurate to when I was in middle school). I head through the classroom door as the phone rings. The door is a huge metal industrial one with no window and an old rusty handle. The hallway is very wide and has large windows on the side opposite of the doors(matching one of the high schools I went to). Mom doesn’t answer the phone and I try again and again. A single random person walks past me in the hall who looks very awkward and nervous. On the fourth try, someone answers the phone but their voice is so soft and quiet that I can barely hear them. I think I hear them say their name is Paul, but I know since I used Mom’s contact in my phone, I couldn’t have possibly called the wrong number. The person talks but I can’t hear them enough and eventually I’m not sure if they are even speaking or not, so I say, “If Mom is with you or something, tell her that Maze needs her kickboxing duffel bag STAT!” And I flip the phone closed. I actually say my own and Mom’s full name, using her maiden name.
I go back into the room but the dream becomes a bit too scrambled to remember coherently. More stuff happens with the Tall Guy, possibly romantically. Then, after what feels like moments after trying to contact her, Mom appears in the doorway of the class, wearing a skimpy wrestling outfit and holding her hands on her hips like an action hero. It looks like she is going to participate in the fighting tournament and I learn that she has not brought me my duffel bag and I just feel exasperated. I think that I should have tried to call Dad and then I wake up.