And they say I'm a dreamer

The voices start buzzing. They are incoherent. I cannot understand a word. I don't even know if they are even words. My eyes feel heavy. I am in an alien place. The faces are unfamiliar. They seem to be masked. It is dark. I am falling...and falling...And then I hit the keypads of my laptop. I must've fallen asleep at work. What a shame. Obviously, that is a part of my imagination. I do not fall asleep at work, but I can picture it so very clearly because I have fallen shamefully asleep in school during classes.

Painfully boring days, horrid subjects, scary teachers. Big classes with all too many students. Fifth standard; my parents decide to give a visit to me in school. Mathematics class. I am summoned to the Teacher's room. My class teacher is surprised to see me. Reason: he doesn't know of my existence. Is he too bad in doing his job of knowing his students? Or am I too good in my job...of keeping myself hidden in the shadows, of mingling with the crowd with the efficiency of a professional, or melting my identity to the point of nonrecognition.

And yet I fell asleep, to the utter annoyance of the teacher, to my disbelief. I bring the limelight to me, and there's no putting an end to it. And the rest is history. I continue to snooze, cover my eyes with my hands; build a makeshift porch over my eyes with my hands, the pretense not very much reliable but functional most of the times. I continue to drop my pencil, get down to retrieve it and rest my eyes for a bit. I continue to dream furtively.