4:20 AM: Low Clouds
I’m driving to school. I’m driving down Avenel Street, through a very low cloud – it’s scary. It’s like it’s made up of ice crystals. There is ice on the streets, and with the cloud, I can’t see where I’m going. I get to school, and someone shoots someone else. Then, one of the kids who is in the group doing the shooting runs around the building, throwing bombs into the building – they are small, and very colorful. I run, and hide in the janitor’s room – it has a false back, which opens into a large storeroom type space. I fiddle with the hasp on the door for a while, trying to get it to lock securely to keep the killers out, but it won’t latch securely. The room is full of junk, and a lot of it seems like camping supplies. I find a mattress, and kind of wriggle underneath one edge of it; I am fairly well concealed. Then, a blond kid comes through the door, and he finds a place to hide. Then, an old woman with gray hair comes through, and hides right next to where I am. She says something about how I should “stop bein’ delicate”… I think maybe I was wiggling.