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Day 4.

A full non lucid dream.

I was a girl, and I was around 17 years old, I had black long hair, and I loved art. I wanted to be an artist. So I entered an Art Academy. My permanent teacher. Was an Artist himself, and was still fully active with making art. He got two students he would teach art, and that were me and a other girl.

The other girl was one year older then me. (18) she had orange curly hair. She looked a little like a lion.

The teacher had black long hair till beneath his shoulders. He was around 24 year, and pretty handsome..

The girl was totally into him, so she tried to flirt with him a lot... But we can't have any love with teachers. It is prohibited, so I try to keep my distance.

But what I noticed, was that the girl wasn't really experienced with art, and almost had nothing she knew about art history.
I really wondered how she entered this Art Academy. You need a portfolio..So I wonder if she had anything good enough to enter?

Anyways, me trying to do what is told, took a big sheet of paper, and I begin to draw rouch sketches of the things I saw in the big white room. (that was the first task, draw what you see in the room)
The other girl still hadn't begun the task we had to do.

The teacher scolded her for not doing his command, and that she had to get started and not get so clingy on him. (She is around him all the time, she is like sticking gum) it didn't bother me much. She can do whatever she wants...but I hope she does something what has to do with art. What she came for..

a little while later, the girl had to go somewheere for a meet up, so he left.
The place was only for me, drawing what I see. And the teacher working on his own things.

It was so quiet. only sounds of paper sounds, and writing sounds. I was almost done with my drawings.
So I had nothing to do. I just take a look at the room, and there were various painting hanging on the wall of famous artists. But I also noticed some who are aren't famous, but I totally knew them.

As a little kid, I always took all the artbooks in the library with me, and looked page for page at all the art that was made. I never got bored, and found all the art wonderful. I also remembered them perfectly who made the art.

I loved art because there always is a story behind it. And that story is made with colors, stripes, and various other things to make that story. You can also draw your emotions with it. There is much you can do iwht drawing. It's the same for tattoos. Although I don't know if I want one yet. Maybe later in the future. I am still too young for it.

Back to present. I watched a painting in the room. It was my most favorite of all. It was dark painting with a burned down forest, and a white dressed woman sitting next to a pool of black water.

I was absorbed in the painting, till the teacher suddenly stood next to me, watching the painting with me.

He asks me, "do you like this painting? You know who made it?"

"Yes.... I really like it. It is so dark, like I can feel it through, and I am standing there. I can feel all the emotion." "Also... The artist who made it is ......."

Him, "Yes, you are right with the emotion. I also can feel it and be absorbed with it, as If I am standing there, feeling pain. It's that this is on my top 1 most emotions painting. And the artist isn't that famous, but you still know the name who made it, that is incredible."

His compliment skips a beat.... "I-it's nothing.. I saw it in a artbook when I was young, and it became my motivation to make my own art like it."

"Mmmmmm, interesting. I'll help you reach your goal since you are my student."

"Y-yes!! Thank you very much, please take good care of me!! I'm looking forward to it."

He smiles and says, "haha, take good care of me too, I am looking forward to it."

It was already time to go home, but full of happiness. (I wonder what kind of art he makes?)

The next day we begun painting what we feel. Put your emotions on the painting. I was happy with this task, because it is what painted the painting I love the most. It will be a good experience! The other girl was not that happy like I was, and only stood there bored, with her phone in her hand. Chatting with her friends. (I don't like her that much... Why is she even here if she doesn't do anything?)

Well, I'll ignore her. I started thinking of my emotions. Trying to think of colors that would fit them. When I know what I am going to use, I get started with mixing colors.

While I was painting, the teacher entered the room after he brought some paperwork to the director. The orangehair girl, immediately putted her phone away, and jumped like, on his shoulders. The teacher was totally annoyed with it, but stayed calm. He tried to get the girl started with her painting.
They sure look lovely dovey though.... Not that I mind... I think. (Argh, what am I saying? I shouldn't think anything about it, a relationship with a teacher is forbidden, so she can't, and.....I can't.)

I was still painting my emotion that I suddenly noticed that I used more dark colors, because of how annoyed I was with the girl.

(Whoops! I wasn't planning to paint colors of annoyance...)



The teacher saw my shocked look, and begun walking towards me. (Whaaaaa nooo, don't look pls! It is totally messed up..) I say that on the inside, but on the outside I try to stay calm.

He then stood next to me, observing my painting. (Ahhh, he is so close! Wait.. Why am I freaking out? It is just a teacher!)

I step a little bit away to keep the distance.

He doesn't notice a thing.

"Hooooooo, so first happy feelings and then suddenly you get a turn of emotion of annoyance.." "I wonder why you suddenly got annoyed? I wonder if it is the girl who doesn't do what is told and is too lazy to do anything?"

"......" (I had no words, he knew exactly what I was thinking..) I stayed silent for a while, finding words to say.
He breaked the ice, "Haha, it's okay. I am also worried that she can be thrown out of the academy if she doesn't do anything, I am trying to get her to work."

I answer, "Yeah, but I also wonder how she entered here, can you tell me?"

The teacher stares to emptiness, and answers, "That is classified information, I am sorry I can't tell you."

"Oh... No worries, it's okay." (Classified information huh....)

Later on the day, the girl still didn't do much, and tried to flirt with the teacher again. He tried to get her off his back, and working on his paperwork he has to finish. Me, already done with my painting, and totally satisfied...Even though some colors of annoyance weren't meant to be here. I am ok with it.

On a nearby green sofa, I layed down, and let my thoughts out for a while. This sofa is soft... I am little sleepy.. But I try to stay awake, I am in school, I can't fall asleep at this place. I stared at the ceiling, and walked with my eyes from up to bottom, observing it. When I noticed there was a painting hanged up in the middle of it. I instantly knew which artist made the painting. It was again on of my favorite paintings after the dark painting.

This painting is very old, and a reference of the style that was used in the stone age, were people drew drawings on stone.

This was a painting made with tools direct out of the nature. Like stones with colors, and the colors of plants. It is overall orange-brown, and used with more dark brown for the figure of the face of a man with a large chin. There were also white spots overall on the painting. As if the man in the painting drew on himself with patrons. While staring at the painting I closed my eyes.

A while later I woke up, because I heard someone calling out my name.

".....!! .......!!!! ...!!"

"Mmmm......yeah??"

I get a blurry vision of a figure with black long hair. Sitting next me.

(Whaaaaaaaa!!!!!!)

I opened my eyes instantly, and could see better this time. Did I fall asleep?? Damn! I didn't plan to fall asleep at school!!

I sit up. And he asks, "haha, did you have a nice nap? The other girl is already gone."

"Whaaaa, sorry! I didn't mean to sleep here, I was just laying, an staring at the painting on the ceiling, and instantly fell asleep without noticing."

I apologize countless times.

"Haha, it's okay, if you are tired you should sleep. Don't push yourself too hard, you have to be healthy to make good paintings. You can always nap here if you feel like it."

"......Alright, thank you for being so kind."

Then he asks me a question.

"So, do you know who made the painting, hanged up on the ceiling?"

"Yeah... It is '.......' from Africa. I remember every artist and painting I see, even the more unpopular ones."

"Haha, you know pretty well, you really like arthistory, don't you?"

"..yeah, it tells everything about a story. It fascinates me."

It stays silent for a while. And then I think about that I should go home to make dinner.

"I should go teacher, I had a great day! Teach me more tomorrow!"

I stand up, and walk away to take my jacket and bag. When I try to escape the room, the teacher grabs my arm, and pulls me to him, kissing me on the lips. (Whaaaaaa???!!!! What's happening?) I try to push him away, but that didn't work, because of his strong arms. (A teacher kissing a student? That is forbidden right? Why is he kissing me?) I then stare to his eyes, when he opens them. I see my reflection cleary into his grey eyes.

It's there that I woke up... Why at that moment? I wanted more... Anyways, hope you liked it^^.
*Sorry if grammar isn't correct!! If there is anything wrong, you can tell me!! thank you*

The dream starts off with me walking down a road, clasping a beige canvas bag tightly to my chest. It feels as if there are books or stacks of paper in the bag. I am about 12 years old and wearing a light blue sweater over a white shirt, a grey skirt, and black dress shoes. I know that I am on my way to my art teacher's house but the neighbourhood I am walking through is unfamiliar and I do not recognize it as any place I know in waking life. The sky is clear and the air light, but there are no people on the streets and I do not see any cars on the road.

I walk past a small house that has an open window on the ground floor. Through the window I can see a television set and there is a local news station reporting the death of a man named Robbie Ritchie. A photograph of the man is displayed and he has dark brown hair and eyes, is slightly tanned and has a stubbly chin. The dead man seems vaguely familiar. I continue walking for a few blocks more until I come to my art teacher's house and brush lucidity with the thought that it looks nothing like her house in waking life (I do not become lucid however). It is a three story townhouse with blue wood panelling and an enclosed garage (with dark brown paneling) to one side.

As I approach the cement stairs that lead up to the front door, a man who is crying comes rushing out of the apartment and quickly turns towards the garage and disappears inside. The man looks exactly like the dead man on t.v except that he has sandy blond hair and is clean shaven. I walk up the stairs and into the apartment. My art teacher, Ms. V, looks exactly as she currently appears in walking life. There is a young, thin, blond woman sitting at the same table. I do not recognize her as anyone I know. The young woman appears to be about 16 or 17 years old and is wearing a white sweater over a light blue shirt and a long black skirt. Ms. V and Blondie are sitting at a white table doing arts and crafts. The white table intersects another table that contains a pile of towels and more craft supplies. Blondie is knitting something with dark blue yarn and Ms. V is sorting bits and peices of fabric into several small bins.

I put my canvas bag down on a clear space on the long white table and ask Ms. V who the man rushing out of her apartment is. She says that his name is Sean before turning her full attention back to sorting. I then ask her if she knows anyone by the name of Robbie Ritchie. Ms. V continues to sort the fabric bits and gives me a peculiar stare, but says nothing. The young blond woman says that Sean is Robbie's younger brother and is upset because he just found out about Robbie's death. I heard what the young blond girl said, but I did not respond. I do not know exactly what, but there was something about the blond girl that annoyed me and I wanted nothing to do with her.

I started looking over the many art and craft supplies on the tables when Ms. V rose suddenly and started to leave. She said something about talking to Sean before she disappeared out the front door. I was not thrilled at being left alone with the blond girl whom I did not know and did not like. She started talking to me about something and for the most part I pretended to listen and did not respond beyond nodding my head at irregular intervals, so I cannot remember now what she said. I am sure that it was nothing important anyway.

I needed a cloth for something and started looking through the pile of towels on the far table for one. I mistook the dishtowel on the top as a cloth and was confused when I picked it up and discovered what it really was. I cannot remember now why I wanted a cloth, but I do recall becoming very frantic because I could not find one.


The dream ends there. I do not know anyone named Robbie (or Sean) Ritchie and I do not know what the significance of learning about his death in my dream is.