Last night I was in  front of a chalkboard covered in  undecipherable symbols. People were dancing – backs on the ground, hands behind their head  with hips bouncing up and down as if they were a swing bridge.  The group wore identical grey tee-shirts with a colourful swirling label pasted on the front and bright pink  pants.  All were in very good condition, not an ounce of jiggling.  They gave their presentation, and after everyone clapped.  I said I must go downstairs and rearrange the Christmas lights. It was April and getting late.

I went into the basement of the old school. The well worn steps were steep, shaky and crackling with every movement. Once the door closed behind me, the world turned black. I hit the bottom.  I took my phone out and pressed the torch. Where was the light switch?  I spanned every wall and the ceiling looking for illumination. Nothing. No bulbs, switches, or any hope for light.

As I walked along the bottom, I saw cubicles on each side of a long dark corridor. The storage compartments were sectioned off into small three by three-foot spaces, jammed to the top with colourful cardboard crates. Letters and numbers scribed, but unknown. Each compartment had a chicken wire front door framed with two-by-two pieces of wood  with an engraved number on top, but no order. On each door was a lock. I forgot to bring keys.

I shone the light in each compartment, hoping I’d see a Christmas decorations label. I finally found what I was looking for on the bottom shelf of number fifteen. The door was locked. However, unlike the other locks, this one needed numbers. I used the last seven digits of my school identification.  The metal clicked.

I opened a box and took the tree lights out, pulling the cord while wrapping the green and red bulbs around my shoulder and hand.  A colourful circle of lights.  My arm was getting sore. Just as I thought my arm would fall off, the lights came to a stop and lit up like, well, a Christmas tree. I put the glowing  bundle into a bag labelled “Decorations,” closed and locked the door.

I started walking back down the corridor. I couldn’t find the stairs I came down. I was confused and lost. Just as my eyes started to swell, a glowing rectangle frame appeared. I opened the door. Bright lights. Many voices. I smelled pine,  banana and old spice.

I went to a directions counter. I knew the server. Her English was good, but not proficient enough to understand my predicament.  I said hello. She was very concerned because she didn’t give the right amount of change to the previous customer. I said, don’t worry I know the person.  I found her.  She was flexing in the hallway. Her body bent in pink pants. I told her the counter person was upset because she didn’t give her the right change. She said, laughing, don’t worry she can keep it.