Mini-essay #1 - Narration

BORING LECUTRE HALL
While the teacher lectured, I stared out the window. The beauty and grace of the falling snowflakes caught my eye as they fell down slowly to the icy streets of Eau Claire, Wisconsin. As I gazed, the shine of the window set me into some kind of trance, a comatose, which gave me moments of escape from the necessary yet rambling nature of diction flowing and reverberating within the walls of this prison.

“Will she ever shut-up?” I thought to myself as my communications professor monotonously uttered the meanings and origins of the terms “signifier” and “signified.”

I definitely had the urge every second of lecture period to either to dash out of the over-crowded lecture hall or to jump out of that window that I still found myself gazing through hypnotically. The outside world, though well below freezing point today, seemed like an inviting escape to this misery.

“Who knew, maybe class will be canceled suddenly due to this ridiculously cold weather today… or maybe for the icy conditions… or the… never mind… it’s no use. I’ll never get out of here, at least not for another 43 dragging minutes.” I contemplated.

“Hi… um… I was gone… so like… can I borrow your notes? Um… what’s your name again?” the bleach-blonde with the nose job asked with snobbery.

“Sure… oh and I’m Jen,” I muttered as I handed yesterday’s notes over and lay my head down upon my desk.

I can go unnoticed if I do happen to doze off as my assigned seat is somewhat hidden behind the three brawny fraternity guys near the right side wall. The professor does not seem to watch for the presence or demeanor of her students, which also aided in my safety against her wrath. Her blank and insincere gaze reminds me of a night watchman or a security guard; they are present at their job, but I wonder if they truly enjoy their duties. The gaze was cast away from me and towards the door near the back wall. Maybe she can’t wait to leave too I presume.
My gaze was directed inward as my vision turned dim.

“I ont pour attraper mon vol!” I heard myself say aloud as my name was called upon by that security guard who preaches to its inmates.

“What was she saying?” was murmured under the breaths of several of my peers.

“Jennifer, I’m glad that you have come back to us, and out of that dream. What does that saying mean?” the guard announced.

“Well, “I ont pour attraper mon vol” means I have to catch my flight. But I don’t know why I said it.” I uttered in reply.

“Well, our time is out. That is all for today and I will see you again on Thursday,” she grumbled.

In embarrassment and shock, I contemplated what my dream could have been about as I rushed out of the prison and toward my next destination: French 102 with yet another security guard.