A friend of mine told me that he once dreamed an entire day of the third grade. When he got to school, he knew how each moment would happen. Every action, every word, was like a script the world was acting out for him, one that he had already glimpsed. The blocking, the lines, it was all there. Unfolding.
The teachers happened to give a schoolwide aptitude test that day and because he had already dreamed the day, he knew the pattern of correct responses on the test sheet. He got a perfect score without ever reading the questions.
They called him into the principal’s office.
“Are you bored in class?” they asked.
“No, not really,” he responded.
They smiled (thinking they had a genius on their hands) and promptly skipped him to the fourth grade.