The Dream of January 15

I'm not sure how it started, really. I just know that suddenly I was doing some kind of art class thing with a former teacher of mine (well, she was a former teacher of mine in the dream and while I can think of a few ones I've had that she bore some resemblance to, she's not real).
Now, this woman was a bit... eccentric. I was well aware that she had some mental issues, but she was widely considered a brilliant artist.
For some reason, I could actually paint a little in this dream. I'd like to stress that it was still only a little, but you could actually see what I was trying to paint. And in this dream I was painting a picture of a woman behind a window. Or three windows, actually. It was the windows of my room in Ryd (which, now that I think of, I realise that I haven't been thinking of and that I miss terribly). Two large windows on either side of a much smaller one whose purpose was to ensure that one could air out the room without having a huge window taking up all the space of the room (yes, they're *that* big and they open in). Anyways, my picture depicted a woman standing in front of the tiny one, so you couldn't see her arms, because they were hidden by the blinds of the two other windows. She was wearing a white dress so what I was trying to do was to paint the center of the painting white and the sides of it a grey colour. And I was trying to do this by means of the huge mass of grey colour that was on the table. Really, it was like... a spectrum of shades of grey, similar in texture and density to mashed potatoes. Not that easy to paint with!

I was struggling with that and the teacher kept telling me what to do and acting all strange. My mood was not the best. And the room was full of girls who all worshipped that teacher. After giving up on my painting, which had turned into a grey mesh, the teacher started showing me pictures of her former students and what they'd done. I think there was more to that than just the art-stuff, but I can't remember what... When she finally left me alone I excused myself to the teacher's less peculiar assistant and said I'd just get some fresh air.
Outside, I started walking around an area that looked a lot like parts of Öxnehaga, where I spent about nine years of my childhood. And apparently, it was spring. I was surprised to find flowers on the ground and decided to pick some for my mother on my way home. As I was walking around I became less interested in the idea of going back into the art class, but I had something that belonged to the teacher and I'd have to give it back. So I headed for my old high school (which was not where it's supposed to be) to put it in her mailbox-thingie there.
Once inside, I realised that it looked nothing like it had before. Visitors had to tell a receptionist of some sort why they were there, rather than just walk in and do what they needed to do. I managed to tell him I was going to drop something off for a teacher and he waved me along. There were these glass display cases along the walls of the corridors and I was looking at one when a door opened and a former teacher of mine and the computer tech guy walked out. For some reason the computer tech guy was wearing a beret.
I soon realised that the teachers' mailboxes were no longer where they used to be and asked another teacher where they were. She asked me who I was looking for and I struggled to remember the art teacher's name. Christina was her first name, and her last name had the German letter ü in it. I guessed a name and it must've been quite close because she took the thing I was dropping off for me and disappeared. While I still can't recall what that was it was something small, and heavy. Possibly metal.

Now that I was there and had nothing better to do I started looking around and suddenly found myself in a place that smelled of leather and sold handbags. I was just beginning to wonder what the school council was thinking, putting a shop like that inside the school, when three girls I knew turned up. One of them showed off a bag she'd just bought (it was pretty much as ugly as all the rest of the ones in the shop - and how the hell can "bag designer" be a real job anyway?), and the other two seemed very envious of that bag. They started asking me questions about what I was doing now and why I was at the school when suddenly one of the girls found a tiny bag that had already been purchased. It had a sticker on it as if it were supposed to be checked in for a flight and there was a boarding pass inside it.
"Ha! And I didn't even have to pay for mine!" said the girl.
I was horrified, there was a boarding pass with a name on it and a flight to Hannover that wasn't going to leave for another 45 minutes - ample time to make sure it got back to its owner. I can't recall if I took the bag from her to give back or just left because I was angry, but here's where it gets weird. Just as I'm leaving, a pet of one of the girls appears that I'm sure I knew was there all along and didn't think anything of. It sticks its head inside my shoe, trying to keep me from leaving. I try to get it out, but it's really staying in there and it turns into a thing where all the girls have to help get it loose and restrain it so that I can leave.
So, what was this creature of doom, you ask?
A hen.


Right, so that's all I remember from that dream. I do recall that, just as I was waking up (presumably a while later) I was suddenly very much under the impression that it was January 30th, that the next day I'd be going to Ryd to move the last of the stuff and clean out the room - realising that they expect the keys to be handed in by noon and that we wouldn't manage that. It was quite a relief to wake up properly and remember that I'd already moved.