The stream of consciousness narrative draws me from my bed. I’ve been dreaming all night about something I’ve never seen before. The dim lights of the hallway made it feel as if I were in a mall during closing hours, but I knew that was not the case. This was my high school and I could feel that my friends were no longer here with me.

I turned in bed and closed my eyes again, hoping not to be brought back to that awful, nostalgic memory. Yet behind my eyelids, I saw the halls of the school again. I saw people and friends there that I had not seen in years, yet they appeared as specters, ghosts of their past selves. These people had lived entire lives since I had last seen them, and I did not know a thing. Yet at one point, I knew everything there was to know about them.

When I woke up the next morning, I smiled at more strangers.