SULIVANS

Dreamtime

Two pieces of limaribuan money and four duaribuan sheets on the edge of the table were stared at by three women in the vicinity with indecision.

"So this is enough?"

One of them who wore glasses reached into his pocket and took out a limaribuan.

"Enough-enough, lah. "

There were doubts from the other two.

They both took their bags; one picked up a cell phone and the other picked up a card in his wallet.

"But really, really, the discount today!"

The three pairs of eyes then watched the instagram post with an analytical view.

Posts in the form of a plain yellow background with a 25% number printed very large under the printed discount with capslock mode.

The glasses scrunched their eyes to scrutinize every sentence written underneath.

Then it rewinded its head and nodded slowly at the two friends who were waiting for the results of its assessment.

The phone then entered the black bag made of imitation leather along with the main decision maker among them, the glasses, who prepared to wear a jacket without a hood.

The cardholder slipped his card into the uniform pocket, just in case the dues were felt to be lacking.

Clattering the key chains of various related shapes in the zipper of the black leather bag it became the leader of the path of the two humans behind him.

His voice grew louder when the owner suddenly stopped his steps to see a familiar face passing by the door.

The two women behind him who collided were slowly pacing up while asking what was surprising that made him stop instantly.

"Hey, isn't she the brawny chick we saw at the festival later that year?"

The glasses confirmed his glasses in annoyance as he turned his head towards his friends tilting his head.

Look at the short-haired woman who stepped awkwardly. His head lowered and turned over and over again, looking confused looking for something.

The bearer of the mangosteen card agreed to the sentence of his friend's question.

"What's with the uniform? Didn't he enter the special section of athletes?"

The glasses that look the smartest among them chimed in with his intelligent analysis.

"The road looks weird... Maybe he's still injured?"

The two pairs of eyes then watched the long leg movements closely.

"Totally so."

The strange path of the woman was clearly visible despite being covered in a long skirt after their smart friend showed it.

"I forgot his name. Who, anyway? Si.. Si-"

"Sita?"

"No. I also forgot, but it's definitely not Sita."

"Crazy, right?"

"Cause? Been here long?"

Sena who was confused determined to knock on the door or immediately open it was shocked to hear his name called.

Mr. Pras stood to his right carrying a pile of papers of various sizes.

"Your call turned out to be Sena, huh? I just met your coach who was asking about a new student in class named Sena-"

The left hand of the homeroom teacher who was free to shift the wooden door that had been contemplated by Sena.

"-then I thought, was there a kid named Sena in my class? I almost said your coach might be in the wrong class"

Sena followed Mr. Pras through rows of empty chairs and tables to the back.

He didn't know his homeroom teacher was someone who liked to talk.

The next door that opened made Sena widen her eyes to see the scene in front of her.

On a large square table that filled almost a quarter of the room, there were various papers and drawing tools lined up irregularly.

Behind him there is a wide board along the wall of the room attached to the wall with several iron elbows containing cardboard of various sizes.

Sena's eyes then turned to sculpted half-finished sculptures shaped either the faces of humans or other creatures; her hair was clearly long undulating.

Side by side with a range of paintings with different sizes, shapes, and themes.

Sena then sat down on the bright yellow rattan chair the homeroom teacher pulled over to let her sit down.

When his eyes met with the eyes of Mr. Pras without glasses, Sena realized he had not listened to his words since entering this room.

He was not even aware Mr. Pras had stopped his chatter.

"First time in here, huh?"

Sena nodded slowly and smiled stiffly. He is determined to listen to Mr. Pras carefully.

A piece of paper was placed in front of Sena.

Sena stared at the untitled paper as the homeroom teacher searched for a ballpoint pen.

His hands deftly traced the long table full of that stuff. Perhaps the pen that he remembered was carried by the hand was tucked in between them.

Though the ballpoint pen perched sweet next to a strange-shaped flower pot of clear glass, where he put a pile of paper works of students that must be assessed.

"How long have you been running?"

Sena straightened her once confused eyes staring at the blank paper on the homeroom teacher who sat down slightly down to reach the ballpoint pen on her right.

"Since 5th grade SD, sir."

Mr. Pras mangosteen understood while putting his pen next to the paper.

"Pretty long either."

Sena answered him with a faint smile, approving the sentence of Mr. Pras who at a glance drove his memory back to the first time he got his victory medal.

Long enough to feel a little.

"Does your dream mean it has been fulfilled?"

Memories of his childhood were cut short by the class guardian's questions that made Sena stunned.

Materialized?

Some of his thoughts agreed on the phrase materialized if he looked at the medals and trophies neatly displayed in a special cupboard at his home.

Some others are still loading, matching the mind with his heart.

All this time Sena only hopes to win every game that the coach puts in for him.

If he has not won, he continues to practice improving his posture and speeding up his footsteps to be able to win.

When he won, the coach registered Sena in the match at the next level.

His life kept turning like that.

So, has the dream come true?

"Oh, what about your injury?"

Sena ended the debate between her thoughts and stared at the knee covered in her long skirt.

Instantly the thought debate that had ended had reappeared to the surface.

Bring the topic of dream realization to the surface when realizing the biggest obstacle of his dream is in progress.

The foot, the most important investment in the realization of his expectations is now in the worst condition.

Does that mean..His dream has fallen?

Mr. Prasmono who did not immediately hear the answer then directed his pupils at Sena who seemed to look at his knees with dimmed eyes.

Oops, this mouth is indeed!

He should have looked very closely at the words of the Indonesian teacher at that time; that he had to fix his mouth that acted before his brain.

He does not want to bring up the wounds of the new protege with questions that are not meant to be of such deep meaning.

"Sorry, these ugly questions bring bad memories, huh?"

Sena's chaotic thoughts were stopped before it went too deep.

Sena shook her head quickly, disagreeing with the lecturer's sentence.

It is not his question that is wrong, but he who has been feeling sad all day.

"My knees are fine, sir. Just need a little recovery."

The words spoken by the mother when her coach visited her home a few days ago.

He only knew the function of that sentence today when he said it with his own mouth.

Sena thought the mother said it out of fear that her coach would turn away, not want to train her again.

Though the real meaning is so that he does not lose the spirit to get back up and running.

In order to believe that his hopes of winning the competition had yet to come to a halt.

"Did you see the incision in my father's arm?"

Sena stared at Mr. Pras' arm with an elongated scar that was darker in color than the surrounding skin.

"Things you get when you fall into the abyss. The wound was so wide that it had to be stitched fifteen stitches."

Sena blinked her eyes, keeping the promise to listen to the babble of the homeroom teacher carefully.

"One of the father's nerves was paralyzed until it was difficult to move all five fingers. Though these fingers are the intermediary of your dreams."

Sena nodded, staring at the scar whose story resembled her personal story.

"But look at you now. Still doing the dream that once was almost gone; painting and sculpting."

Waw. So all the sculptures and paintings displayed in this room are his works?

The homeroom teacher smiled watching the dimness of Sena's eyes slowly disappear.

"The essence of the words of the Father is, you do not have to worry and fall into a state of affairs. Perhaps, by choosing a different path like entering this regular class, you might meet your other dreams."

The long sentence continued to ring in Sena's mind throughout her footsteps tracing the deserted corridor.

He did not expect the most anticipated moment home all day to be the time that makes his brain think the most.

Hours of boring subjects that he passed all day just hitchhiking into his ears for a while.

While the fifteen-minute conversation with the homeroom teacher left memories firmly rooted in his brain and heart.

Leaving the fire of spirit in him that had dimmed unnoticed.

And left unanswered questions about his dream.

The deserted and deserted corridor made Sena enjoy her raging thoughts.

Most of the classrooms on the second floor and the one he passed by just now were empty.

Only one or two people remained in the class.

Sena stared at the corridor glass as the light radiating from outside the building dimmed suddenly.

A cloud that moves slowly blocks the sun's light.

The speech of the homeroom teacher before parting ways that he had not trusted earlier reappeared in his mind.

"It looks like it's going to rain."

Sena looked at the homeroom teacher doubtfully, and replied with a soft laugh.

"You can guess it too when you're the same age as me" said the homeroom teacher, handing a yellow umbrella to Sena.

Here he was, staring at the truth of his prediction by tightly grasping the yellow umbrella that he had been about to return earlier.

Sena smilingly stared at the rapidly descending rain speck, drenching every object she touched.

He was grateful that his homeroom class was a good person.

The sound of rain and the smell of wet soil makes the mind calm.

Long enough Sena noticed the change in color of the brick exposed to raindrops through the glass corridor.

Then prepare to step his feet when it feels like his mind has faded with rain water.

Sena stepped towards the door of the building and caught a familiar looking face.

He was still thinking about when and where he met this tall male face.

Until the moment the confused man looked to the left, looking at the familiar face of Sena in his memory.

"ah! You helped me at that time!"

Sena remembered the poor boy who was sobbed and kicked until his mouth was filled with blood the day he lost his wallet.

The boy transformed into a healthier human being with a sparkling face staring at him.

"ah! Aye! You okay? How's wounds?"

The man grimaced displaying a barrage of his teeth, then bent his hands to pretend to display his arm muscles.

"Of course it's good! My body healed quickly because I was young!"

They laugh together.

"How's your knee?"

Their warm conversation flowed with laughter.

The man he helped was named Tera, the fourth-grade, the younger brother. He seems to have a humorous side that makes their conversation roll with fun.

Until someone grabs Tera's hand and hands her a blue umbrella.

"wear this. You haven't healed yet, don't run rain like before."

Sena was stunned to look at the tall man who was talking to Tera.

"He who helped me when I was hit by oreo-"

Tera who was about to introduce them both stopped her intentions when the two people who were both helping her at that time seemed to know each other.

Sena subconsciously opened her mouth, saying the question in her mind loudly.

"Zalva?"