last dream just now

many of us are gathered in a room. i think all of my friends from everywhere in the world are there, but the lights are down, so it's just a feeling. we are all adults, but in this room we are all children again, and awards are being handed out by our teachers.

"ilana..." there is clapping, and i can see myself from the back of my head, and my teacher approaches with a long rectangular box and opens the lid for me... "we know you always wanted a portfolio..." and inside the box there are long paper scrolls, on which are written all of the words i wrote over the next twenty years, but never recorded or published.

the handing out of awards is over, and my mother approaches the teacher. i am not there but i can see and hear everything. my mother says "tell her not to leave..." and then "...tell her to come home." my teacher says, "no, larisa. i would love to lose her." my mother says again, "tell her to come home..." and my teacher says, "no, ilana must fly. she's the moth and the flame."