I was on a bus with a favorite teacher of mine, Mr. Sims, driving us as always. He typically drove us to college bowl competitions in a van so the bus was an unusual surprise. We were traveling at a good pace although I didn't know where we were going. The bus seemed oversized for the amount of passengers and had a very wide aisle through the middle. I got a call from a number I didn't recognize and figured it must have been my step mom or something. I had an old, grey flip phone. We all rode along chatting and having a good time like normal. Mr. Sims mentioned another bus carrying other students was ahead of us although no where in sight. I was turned around talking to my friend Thomas when I noticed my cell phone was buzzing. It almost immediately stopped ringing, I was too late to answer. I looked across the bus and said "hey guys she's still calling, can't she take the hint?" We started to enter about an inch of water on an empty interstate. I open my phone again and realize I have a voice mail from the unknown number. I soon realize this number wasn't my step mom. I play the voice mail and struggle to listen over the sounds of the bus and people chatting. I can't make much out but it seems to be a frantic warning. My eyes widen as it cuts off and I play it again. I still can't hear properly so I scramble to shush everyone and tell Mr. Sims there is something he needs to hear. I play the recording again as I hold the phone up to his ear. People are loud at first but starting to quiet down. It's a warning from a student on the other bus. The water gets worse up ahead and we need to turn around. It mentions their last known location and cuts off in screams. Looking out the window, we are already in pretty deep water. It looks like rapids will soon start. The bus struggles to turn. The back doors fly open and we realize this is where Kara, the student, was calling from earlier. We discover her body in the water and pull it in with a rope. No one finds evidence of the rest of the other bus. Then I woke up.
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Dream Journal
Short StoryI hate not remembering my dreams or knowing how often they happen. So when I wake up I'll try to write everything I can remember.