Weirdest Dream Ever

Two nights ago, I experienced the oddest, most horrific subconscious thought of my life. I shall tell the story like a book.

                                *Dream Cloud*

"Excuse me Ms. Jollywagon, Why am I now in the regular American History class" I asked my obviously confused councilor.

"I'm not sure but just go for today until I can get it fixed." She replied after hesitation, sensing my anger.

After a slow deep breath I hurried along to my second period regular history class. I carefully chose the seat farthest to the left in the front row after pondering the arrangement for a few seconds. As the bell rang, the teacher began class by exclaiming he was a substitute and the regular teacher would be back tomorrow.

The classroom was dull with plain white walls, a teacher’s desk, and five columns with six rows of student desks. The substitute teacher who now called himself Mr. Cloud turned off the lights and turned on a movie concerning Industrialization. Feeling disinterested (as I had already studied this in my real class) and drowsy from studying late last night I drifted off into a deep sleep. 

I stumbled out of my sleep forty-five minutes later with a loud bell ringing in my ear. Trudging through the hall I began to feel a tingling sensation in my left hand. I slowly raised my hand and came to the horrifying conclusion that someone had tattooed permanently all around my hand as I was sleeping.

The hallway started spinning. I shook my head attempting to stay calm but was unsuccessful. I ran down the steps to the main hallway screaming and bawling uncontrollably. Soon enough the hallway began to clear. I rushed to the first administrator I could find and protested, "I swear to find the person who did this and make their life a living hell".

After much attempts to calm me down I explained what happened and wagged my red, stinging hand in the teacher's face. She assured me she would let the other faculty know and that we would find the victimizer. I rushed off to the nurse to make sure my hand was at least healthy and uninfected. As the nurse and I were inspecting my hand the designs and colors became more protruded. I must admit the pattern was quite beautiful, but it still had to be removed. Later on, as I was roaming the hall on the way to lunch I noticed one of my good teachers and friend talking. They waved me over and I told the story once again about the tattoo. Mid-way through the story another student approached my teacher to ask a question.

The young boy was roughly 4'10, dark skinned, with short black hair and brown eyes. He appeared to be a freshman.  And, as he was speaking, I seemed to be remembering something from that nap in history. It was like I was hearing my dream again. Then I realized what it was. It was his voice! I heard his voice next to mine class. He must have been the tattooer. He hurried off to his next class and I was hit with a burst of glee from my revelation. I told my teacher that he was my suspect; she seemed to frown.           

She exclaimed, "No, it can't be him. He's a really good kid; he works hard in school and he has been through a lot." 

I explained further that I heard his voice in my sleep and begged for her to look into it. Eventually, she promised to investigate: she was very concerned.

                              *Exit Dream Cloud*

 My dream ended there but maybe I should complete the story and make up the rest?