Typically, the most interesting part of my night are my dreams. It’s crazy to think that our minds make up stories and worlds inside our head while we’re unconscious. What happens in my dreams is usually consistent.

When I was in elementary school, they were just always about being chased by whatever horror movie character was on my mind at the time. Lately though, they’ve been much more structured. I’ve dreamt (by the way: dreamt is one of my favorite words) of every one of my family members killing me. Some more than once. After the death of one particularly close family member, I had a dream about her head on a robot body, chasing me around a hospital. School is a large part of many of my dreams. A lot of them take place there, and people from school are frequent visitors. My classmates are never in my dreams, but my teachers are in most of them. Two teachers—who will remain unnamed—have been my parents in at least fifty of my dreams. One of those teachers planned a huge musical with a certain AP World History teacher and a counselor starring. Only one of my teachers has killed me in a dream before.

Something both sad and interesting is that we forget most of our dreams. I’ve probably had some amazing dreams. My favorite part of dreams is when a place is altered completely. I once had a nightmare when I was eight, and it took place in my house, except there was a hibachi restaurant in my living room, and the second floor of my house was replaced with an entire skyscraper. I’ve had several dreams where the art hallway has been converted for different purposes. My dreams have never been dull; they’re always an exciting gaze into another world.