Dreaming in Digital

20250621 i was in school and running late to catch the bus home. I hopped in from the back, escape door, passing and waving to Shortbread and her sister on the way to an empty seat near the driver. Then the bus was off.

After several drop offs, the bus halted in a traffic jam. The engine was also dead from being the heatwave. I realized the street we were on was unfamiliar and not on the usual route, as well as Shortbread was never on my bus home. I was on the wrong bus.

My backpack wasn't with me either - i'd left it in my classroom, along with my cellphone.

"Sir," i called to the driver. He was elderly with white whisps of hair, glasses, and a red sweater vest on a white button-up shirt. "I'm on the wrong bus. I forgot my backpack and i don't have any money to get home."

He left his seat and pulled out a notebook and flipped to a page with music notes he'd written. Pointing at them he said, "do you know what these mean? I forgot them, but now i remember. They stand for 'peace...'" He waited for us to fill in the blanks: 'love', 'unity', 'respect', and 'trust'.

I checked the time overhead; it was 17:44 - at 18:00 i had to wake my baby and breastfeed her. I was not going to make it on time.

I called out to Shortbread behind me. "Can i borrow your phone a sec?" I asked.

"Of course."

I made my way to the back of the bus. The other students, tired and faint from the heatwave, lazed in their seats. Shortbread's sister leaned against the window as i approached and Shortbread pulled me into the vacant seat beside her. 

She cheerfully handed me her phone.

"It finally pays to memorize a [phone] number," i said as i took it. 

"Who are you going to call?" She asked as i tried to press the tiny buttons on the touch screen. Her phone was small with a tiny screen. It literally was also a piece of well-toasted toast, sliced in half. My fingers kept dialing the wrong numbers as i tried to press the '4'.

"Dean [Winchester]," (Cookie) i responded.