Dream 20.08.2026 - Jane in Arcturus High

(Josie Sayz: I finally got around the writing the dream that I had just over a couple of weeks ago. I was wearing my current uniform, holding the keys to an old job, while using them to unlock the doors to my secondary school… and this seemed a completely normal thing to do. However, I kept bumping into my ex everywhere, and I was scared that he would think that I was following him, when I wasn’t. Oh, and I have written all of this as a part of my Jane Chronicles series.)

 

A fast-paced, soft thud vibrated the ground. Elongated shadows engulfed her. As the sun attempted to creep over the horizon, her path lightening enough to see where she was going. Wind gusted around her. The red head clawed her fingers through her flailing fringe and clipped it back against her temple. Tugging at the cuffs of her siren factory fleece, Jane increased her pace down the dark and dreary streets.

Keeping her head low, Jane focused on the path ahead. She sidestepped a loose slab and strode over several puddles. A pair of shoes came into focus. Flickering her sight up, Jane felt her cheeks burn a deep scarlet, as a familiar person crossed her path. A stern daggered glare on the stubbled face, of her ex-partner, James, burned into her vision. Forcing a swallow, Jane returned her sight to her shoes and increased her pace. ‘He seemed so angry with me,’ Jane worried, as she kept her head down. ‘I didn’t mean to see him on my walk to work. I didn’t do it on purpose,’ she told herself. The corner of her eyes glanced to her left, in the direction he was plodding. His silhouette grew smaller. Lowering her shoulders, Jane released a breath that she had not realised she was holding.

The dark night sky brightened to an illuminous blue, as she arrived at her destination. Towering above her, twenty, six-foot tall windows lined the ground floor of the first half of the building before her. Protruding from its centre, a six-story high, cylindrical tower glistened against the glow of the rising sun. As Jane neared the centre of the building, the tower’s black brick work gleamed, as though sparkles of precious minerals were lodged inside the stone structure. To the left of the entrance way lay another stretch of twenty, six-foot tall windows blocking out the symmetrical structure of the building,

Pulling out a ring of keys from her pocket, Jane looked down at the set in her hand. Multiple chub keys were wrapped in a piece of paper, each highlighted in a different colour, and were sellotaped to the stem. Two other chub keys, one brass, the other silver, in colour, remained uncoloured, as did two yale keys. A smirk poked into the corner of Jane’s mouth. ‘These are the keys from ‘The Neverlandian News’ office that I used to work at.’ As she approached the front door, Jane looked up at the sign: ‘Arcturus High School’. Her right hand moved by itself, inserting the correct key into the lock. The front door opened.

Unlocking the front door to Arcturus High’s main entrance, with her keys to ‘The Neverlandian News’ office, while wearing her siren factory uniform, Jane arched her head around at her surroundings. To her left, the same cobalt chairs that she remembered sat in the receptionist area, just as they had done over twenty years ago. The receptionist's hatch was still the same wooden board, as it always had been. To her right, a photographic collage of year groups, classes and teachers, throughout the ages, decorated the noticeboard.

Stepping through the reception area, Jane let herself into the main school corridor. A deep admiral blue carpet, with slate-grey flecks lined the floors, complete with chewing gum stained blobs. Jane's eyes danced with a soft flutter, from left to right, as she observed her surroundings. The main school hall entrance remained opposite the reception area. Along the corridor, to her left, lay empty classrooms, and to her right was the teacher toilets, the staircase, the Drama Studio, and then the courtyard leading towards the boys locker area. A soft smirk prodded into the right corner of her cheek. 'Just as I remember it,' she mused.

With the ring of keys in her hand, Jane unlocked the side entrance to the building. Then, she traversed towards the back of the school, trapsing through the science department corridor. A tingle emanated from her chest, as she passed the marble staircase, then crossed over the courtyard and towards the canteen. Here, the carpet changed to a deep bottle green and the lighting overhead grew ominous. A small shudder crept up her spine. ‘There are a lot of dark memories attached to this corridor,’ Jane remembered, as she reminisced of her time at Arcturus High.

A small stroll down the PE and library corridor led Jane back around the school in a large circle. Ending her main door unlocking duty at the last front entrance, Jane unlocked the English corridor’s entrance and made her way up the staircase.

Chatter began to build, as students made their way inside. Bodies bustled about, bumping into one another. A soft puff of air exhaled through Jane's nostrils, as a warmth spread from her chest. 'Who would have thought a buzzing building full of teenagers would spark a warm memory,' Jane mused, as she retraced the steps of her childhood. The right corner of her mouth prodded into her cheek, as the red head climbed the steps of the English corridor. Glancing into each classroom window, as she walked by, the warm tingle spread. 'It hasn't changed a bit'.

The floor, underfoot, vibrated, as herds of teenagers stampeded down the floor below. As Jane approached the corridor containing the year group noticeboards, she slowed her stride to admire them. The same five colours that represented the five year groups, from twenty years ago, still remained. A pastel sapphire-blue outlined the year sevens’ notice board. A soft blush represented year eight. Year nine were met with a cheerful shamrock green. The bright dandelion yellow, with a hint of metallic, still reminded Jane of gold. And last amongst the noticeboards was the iridescent glow of the platinum-snow.

Returning her attention to the corridor ahead, the colour drained from Jane's face. The dark, stubbled hair. The shuffled walk. The daggered glare. Jane’s heart dropped to her stomach. ‘James… again?’ As a fierce thumping beat in her chest, Jane’s feet rooted to the spot. ‘Oh no!’ she cried to herself. ‘James is going to think that I’m following him. I’m not!’ Lowering her head to her PVC charcoal dolly shoes, Jane powerwalked into the modern foreign languages corridor. ‘What on earth is James doing inside Arcturus High?!’ Jane cried to herself. ‘I didn’t see him on purpose. I didn’t see him on purpose. I didn’t see him on purpose,’ she repeated to herself over and over again, as she peered into the next corridor. Students were already lining up outside of their IT classrooms.

Turning back on her heels, Jane followed some students inside the end modern foreign language classroom and took a seat at the back of the room. A cheerful, warm, robust lady, with a nest of greying blonde hair stood at the front of the classroom. “Guten Morgen, Frau Burgman,“ announced the students in a monotone singsong tone. Beaming to herself, Jane joined in, as a flurry of warm memories in Frau Burgman’s classroom fluttered to the front of her mind.

“Heute ist Donnerstag, der 20. August. Heute werde ich deine Lieblingsfarbe erfahren,“ Frau Burgman addressed the class. A warm grin stretched from ear to ear across Jane’s face, as this was one of her favourite sentences to learn, way back when she was in Frau Burgman’s classroom. “James, was ist deine Lieblingsfarbe?”

Jane blinked hard in disbelief. The stubbled, dark hair on the head of the male sat in front of her. Lines puckered Jane’s forehead. Stretching her spine as tall as she could, Jane peered down over the person in front of her’s shoulder. The markings of a stickman holding a rainbow was tattooed to his left wrist. The icy shudder that Jane had felt moments earlier, down the corridor, returned. ‘No!’ Jane cried to herself. ‘Not James again.’ As if James could read Jane’s thoughts, he threw his head over his shoulder, snarled his nose and daggered his eyebrows.

Then I woke up.

- Josie -

Good Morning, I'm Home, Goodnight!

When you wrote you name and phone number
On that scrap of brown paper,
Didn’t know I’d be thinking of it,
Over ten years later.
Yes, it is over,
And I accept it.
But that brown piece of paper,
I wish I had kept it.

It held all those memories,
Of a happier time.
Before we were over,
And the times that I cried.
Yes, I’ve moved on,
I’ve found someone new.
But when things get hard,
I’m left thinking of you.

From that brown, paper note,
We had our first date.
After, you asked for hug,
And it all felt like fate.
You said you’d let me know,
Once you arrived home.
I never had to ask,
You’d text from your phone.

Then, from that day,
Everything changed.
You gave me a routine
And it didn’t feel strange.
I was your first thought,
When you opened your eyes;
You always confirmed this,
With your, “Good morning,” surprise.

Then, when you arrived home,
From work or your friends,
You’d text me, “I’m home,”
And the worrying ends.
I was your last thought every evening,
As you turned off your light,
You never forgot
To text me, “Goodnight.”

For five years you text me,
Those five words every day,
Sent with three kisses,
Never a delay.
Even when we took a break,
Those five words, they remained.
It was our silent bond.
Nothing explained.

When we parted ways,
Each other we replaced.
Our new partners continued,
What, between us, had erased.
Ryan said, “Good morning,
I’m home and goodnight,”
I never asked,
Nor did it cause a fight.

A few years passed with dating,
I met quite a few,
But no one had every
Compared close to you.
Then I met Robert,
A man so kind and wise.
He used those five words,
It was no surprise.

Never with Robert,
Or Ryan or you
Was this ever a problem
Nor felt forced to do.
Only when you grew distant
And our love did fade,
Did you start to change,
The five words you betrayed.

I was no longer your first thought,
When you opened your eyes.
You didn’t text me first,
You’d talk to one of the guys.
At some point in your day,
After an hour or two,
It's like you remembered,
What you ought to do.

Your, “Good mornings,” were late,
And your, “I’m home,” too.
You’d speak to anyone else,
While I worried about you.
Then one the evenings
You forgot your, “Goodnight,”
I’d cry myself to sleep,
Couldn’t turn off the light.

I’ve with someone new,
And everything’s fine,
But what was once my normal,
Feels like just yours and mine.
I’ve tried hard to tell him,
Without those five words I ache,
But it feels like being honest,
Was a big mistake.

I don’t want to lose him,
I don’t want it to be through,
But lately every day
Reminds me of losing you.
I’m crying, I’m scared,
I don’t know what to do.
Those five words were so simple
When it was me and you.

 

- Josie -

The Ballad of AD

(Josie Sayz: This came to me in a dream, while I was heavily medicated, for a migraine. Migraine medication always makes me a little loopy. In my dream, ‘The Manic Street Preachers’ were singing this song. I didn’t remember any of it, when I first woke up. While I was at work, waiting for a 775 page document to print, to take to court, all of the lyrics appeared in my head, as if by magic, and I had the whole piece down in around ten minutes. Oh, and I know that, strictly, this isn’t a ballad, but it’s what the piece wanted to be called – take up the argument with my heavily medicated (at the time) brain.)

Guess who’s got another headache today?
He's popped a pill and then he's on his way.
'Cause god forbid he ever tried to explain
Why that other woman's on his brain.
Rather than think about and process his past,
With Anti-Depressants, he knows the feeling won't last.
Even on his wedding day, when he's got cold feet,
He pops a pill; can't see his future is bleak.

Another Day, Another Dollar,
Just in the world of Allan Dahmer.
He says he's okay, things are fine,
But that's not what's going on in his mind.

Every time he's thinking that he has doubts,
Another Anti-Depressant pill and things will work out.
He never takes the time to contemplate
Why he's anxious and sick of feeling so fake.
Every time he senses something is wrong,
He's made a mistake and that he doesn't belong,
He relies on the Anti-Depressants;
Ignoring feelings from is adolescence.

Another Day, Another Dollar,
Just in the world of Allan Dahmer.
He says he's okay, things are fine,
But that's not what's going on in his mind.

How long until Allan Dahmer opens his eyes
And realises that he's living a lie?
He can't keep pleasing everyone that he meets,
Suppressing hobbies and opinions until he is deceased.
Anti-Depressants aren't the answers you seek.
Despite the weight gain, they are making you weak.
You'll keep hiding for the rest of your life.
I really do feel sorry for your wife.

Another Day, Another Dollar,
Just in the world of Allan Dahmer.
He says he's okay, things are fine,
But that's not what's going on in his mind.

- Josie -