I must be dreaming. This isn't The Academy. I'm definitely dreaming.
I remember losing it going across the stage, then I passed out. But almost as soon as the lights went out, they came back on, only now I'm on what appears to be some old wagon path in the middle of a sea of emerald green grass. The blades wave collectively in the cool breeze and the morning sun beats down hard on my skin. In front of me is the most open expanse of land I've ever laid eyes on. The grass seems to run forever over meandering hills before meeting the pale blue sky at a point so far away I question whether it’s possible to reach it, or if you would simply walk and walk until you wind up in the same place you started.
The sights, the smells, the feeling of the air, this is the most realistic dream I've ever had. It feels as though I simply fell through the floor at the academy and landed here without missing a beat. And in the process, my body feels completely normal, better even. The wear and tear of yesterday's final training session feel like a distant memory. I’ve heard of lucid dreaming before, but never thought it would be this real. I can even think.
I stare at the world before me and take a deep breath. I’ve never breathed air so fresh. I can smell the morning dew evaporating in the sunlight. It feels like spring wherever it is that my mind took me. I finally have the thought to follow the wagon tracks behind me to see where they lead. To my surprise, fifty yards behind me stands a single building alone in the massive expanse of grassland. It is pure white, freshly painted by the looks of it, and is simply a rectangle with a roof sloping to either side. The only distinguishing characteristic is the small tower that rises in front of the peak of the roof, stretching towards the sun like a lonely sentinel guarding the emerald see where it sits.
I take a few steps closer towards the odd building and notice that it appears to be made of wood. I’ve heard of buildings being made of trees before, but I’ve never seen one in person. I take a few more steps down the wagon path when a bell rings at the very top of the tower. I’m startled for a moment, frozen in place, when the large double doors at the front of the building swing open and a steady stream of people come pouring out down the two small steps down to the path.
The strangers are mingling happily with one another, men, women, and children, with an odd amount of friendliness and familiarity that is seldom seen at the Academy. Their clothes are also striking, but they seem vaguely familiar, like I’ve seen them in an image before. The men are wearing large-brimmed hats, leather jackets and boots. The women long flowing dresses with high collars. I’ve seen that before.
I wrack my brain to try and determine what about them is so familiar.....Aha! I know it! I had taken an ancient history class several years ago at The Academy. It was actually one of the only classes I had done well in, managing one of only two fours I managed throughout my education. The people are wearing clothes reminiscent of the ancient American west. I’d guess sometime in the 19th century. And that building must be a church, those buildings where people used to worship a god, most likely Christian by the looks of the building. Wow its an oddly satisfying feeling to know something seemingly so obscure. Maybe I should have paid more attention in class.
I watch the flow of the strangers as they make their way towards me. Some peeled off and disappeared behind the building and came back holding horses, four with just the animals and two pairs pulling a crude wooden wagon where a driver sat on an elevated bench. They pulled onto the path and what I presume to be their family members climbed in to the wagon. The wagons and horses plod along slowly, hardly faster than the walkers, as they all make their way towards me.
When they get close enough for me to see the details in their faces, I’m overwhelmed by an odd sense of familiarity. I’ve never seen these people in my life, and yet it feels like I know them. One of the drivers looks down at me with a friendly smile and tips the brim of his hat as he passes. Another nods amiably from atop a horse with a child seated behind him. The young girl waves sheepishly at me and I feel compelled to wave back.
The traffic flows around me but no one says a word, only the occasional nod or pat on the shoulder. They all smell dreadful for some reason. It doesn’t take long for the crowd to pass me by and soon I’m left alone yet again with the fading sound of children laughing and wagon jostling on the uneven terrain. I turn and watch them for a while, growing smaller and smaller as they went, appearing almost microscopic when compared to the vast world around them, before they disappeared finally following a bend that took them behind one of the small hills.
Once they’re gone I turn back towards the church. The doors remain open and I feel curiosity pulling me towards them. The morning sun is still relatively low in the sky and I can feel it on my back as I enter. It runs along the floor, perfectly down the aisle between the rows of surprisingly polished benches. Flecks of dust dance in the light and the smell of fresh wood is very strong. It is an exceedingly simple interior, the only furnishings being the benches, a podium, and a large wooden cross on the opposite wall. Standing over the podium at the end of the aisle, with his back to me, is an elderly man in a black robe. A priest, or pastor or something like that. Damn, I’m on fire.
I walk silently towards the podium where the man is hovering over several books. He is visibly balding and what hair he does have is as white as the building’s exterior. The man is fairly short and from behind his mannerisms seem to indicate a gentle personality. Halfway down the aisle a board creaks and the man turns, his face quickly shifts from surprise to relief when he sees my face.
As soon as I meet his eyes I feel the now familiar feeling of my body failing me. My heart rate quickens and my legs begin to feel weak but I manage to continue until we are standing face to face in the warmth of the sunlight in the narrow aisle.
“I’m glad you could make it Doc.” His accent is strong and odd, but his tone carries with it a sense of caring. Wait, did he just call me Doc?” I’ve never been called Doc before. Who’s Doc? “I was worried ‘bout ya when you stepped outside during the sermon” he continues.
“Just needed some fresh air” I say and that seems to satisfy him enough. Whatever keeps happening to my body seems to be happening faster this time, my legs feel like toothpicks and my vision is already starting to blur. The man turns and grabs something off of the podium, a small book it looks like.
“I’m so sorry to hear about Maggie, I hope she’s feeling better.” His elderly face turns very sympathetic, though the name Maggie doesn’t ring any bells for me. Still, I feel a small but noticeable pit of sadness deep in my stomach, like some hidden trauma I had forgotten about was resurfacing. It’s hard to focus on that however when I’m barely able to stand up straight.
I nod silently, unable to think of what to say. He reaches out his hand holding the book. “I thought she might appreciate this, I marked out a passage that I hope can bring her some comfort.” I can barely see and I can feel myself fading, like I’m being pulled from my body. Somehow I manage to take the book and open the front cover. On the inside the man wrote a small note. I squint and can hardly make out the words, but it reads simply:
Romans 8:18- Reverand Hermann, June 26, 1869.
Yes! 19th Century, I knew it! Why would I dream about something 600 years in the past?
That’s the last thought I have before once again the world goes black.
---
When I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the floor at The Academy surrounded by a small circle of curious onlookers. They all stare at me like I came back from the dead.
“Victor!” I hear Fitz’s voice, and he takes a knee beside me. “Are you alright?” I take a mental inventory of my body and realize I feel completely normal yet again.
“I feel fine” I say. “How long was I out?”
“I don’t know, maybe five seconds?” he replies.
I stare back at him, confounded. Five seconds? That dream felt like it was several minutes. And it felt so real. Every other dream I’ve had in my life was so vague and fleeting, and when you wake up several hours have passed. The ceremony is continuing behind us, I can hear the dean continuing to call names.
“You sure you’re ok?” Fitz asks again.
“I’m positive.” I say and sit up easily. I put my hands on the floor and start to stand when a hand touches my shoulder, pressing gently, and a soft voice says “Easy there, take it easy. That was a nasty fall.”
It’s a woman’s voice again, one I don’t recognize. I turn my head towards the sound of the voice and instantly lose my breath. She is stunning. Her dark blue eyes are striking and match the color of her jumpsuit. Long blonde hair falls past her shoulders and comes to rest with a gentle curl just above her breast. Her hand lingers on my shoulder and my brain seems to have stopped working altogether.
“Do you remember what happened?” she asks.
“Uhhh..I just started to feel sick I guess, my vision started to go and the next thing I know I was dreaming.” She nods sympathetically. “Are you a doctor?” I ask.
She chuckles then says, “Yes, as a matter of fact, after today I am.”
“Well, I promise I’m feeling better.” I say, wishing she was my personal doctor.
“I just want to make sure.” She says. “Can you tell me your name, the date and what your placement is?”
“Victor Jackson. June 26th, 2482. My placement is with Obedience, security officer.”
Immediately her face changes from one of sympathy to one of disappointment and condescension. “Well, you’re lucky.” She says with an arrogant smirk. “Any other placement and this could have been grounds for physical expulsion. But you should be fine.”
Abruptly, she stands and walks away, apparently satisfied with her rudimentary exam. I stand up, still feeling normal. The only injury now is to my pride. I watch her walk away and take a seat next to Cassius, whisper in his ear, and elicit a chuckle when he looks in my direction. I can feel the anger and embarrassment stewing in my stomach, burning. She’s just like all the other Academy students, and just about everything I’m not, and yet a piece of me wants to be more like them. Please let this day end. Get me out of here.
Fitz can sense my frustration and tries to console me. “Don’t pay any attention to her, Victor. Who cares about your placement. As long as you’re happy” he says. But am I happy? I think I am. I just know I want to be done with this place.
Just as I’m about to start heading back to my seat, I see a commotion erupting in the auditorium stands. To my horror I see my parents rushing down the stairs and hustling towards our position to the side of the stage. I groan audibly. They’ll undoubtedly have their credits docked-- surveillance never misses anything-- and they don’t have permission to be down here.
My mother is practically sprinting towards me with a panicked look on her face. She’s in her best green dress, no doubt an attempt to match me, and still looks out of place among the other spectators. My father is trailing her with the expression of someone who failed to prevent exactly what was happening. “Oh my goodness, Victor are you ok?!? What happened?!?” my mom is frantic.
“I’m fine I swear” I say as she searches my body for imaginary bruises or cuts like I’m a toddler. Please won’t this day just end?
“Leave the boy alone, Charlotte.” My dad says sounding exhausted. “The CA is already going to hit us for a few credits just for being down here. You don’t need to embarrass your son too” My dad was always worried about the Central Authority. My uncle had disappeared following an altercation with an official after he had had too much to drink. His weathered face, gray hair and thick glasses give him the appearance of someone fifteen years older than he really is.
“Oh screw your damn social credits” my mom says. “Victor nearly died.”
“Mom, I just got a little lightheaded, probably something I ate. I’m telling you I’m fine.”
Until now Fitz had been standing by awkwardly, watching the scene unfold. Now he was stepping in to try and calm my mother. She had always liked him. “Hi Mrs. Jackson.” He says, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “He was actually just checked out by a doctor and they cleared him. He’ll be good to work tomorrow even.”
That seems to calm my mother down and she takes a step back to come to grips with herself.
“I’m sorry, I just get a little worried. We’re so proud of you, Victor. With your new placement I just can’t stand to see anything happen to you.” She puts an emphasis on the words because she thinks of my new job as a prestigious posting. For her it is. She has no clue that I finished at the bottom of my class. Even my father is standing there staring at me and the pride is visible on his face, though someone less familiar would never see past the scowl that appears permanent.
By now the graduates that are walking across the stage eye us as they go by and some of the Academy employees are making their way towards us.
“Go back to your seats” I say to my parents, desperate to keep the attention off of myself with only hours to go before I’m free of this place. “I’ll find you when the ceremony is over.”
My dad ushers my mom back the way they came, and they once again fade into the mass of friends and family in the audience. I feel guilty for being so short with them, but they simply don’t understand what it’s like among the upper echelons of society. It took me years to be merely tolerated, I can’t have them gushing over me while my peers and instructors watch.
I make my way back to my seat and watch the remainder of the graduation next to Fitz without saying a word. I do my best to forget the fact that I just collapsed in front of a thousand people. Not to mention the fact that only a couple of people actually cared enough to check on me.
Luckily, I’ve become quite adept at disassociating from what my peers think, and I find my mind wandering instead back to that 19th century church. I can’t get over how real everything felt, and the shadow of familiarity that was cast around the whole scene. I find myself drawn to the vast sky and the swaying grass and the pure white church. Why would I dream about something like that? All because of one class I took several years ago? Outside of Fitz, I hope that scene is the only memory I take from this place. Tomorrow I can start fresh.