Chapter Five - Sixteen Again

Hamilton leaned back, tapping the tips of his fingers together in contemplation. He left the boy waiting for a few moments before commenting, "An interesting dream, Edwards. What do you make of it?"

Charlie shifted nervously from leg to leg. "Well, sir, I've been giving it a lot of thought since last night, and I think it was a premonition. A warning of what could happen to me if I drop out of school this year. And if I don't come back next year, sit my final exams and leave school with a better education."

The boy paused and stared down at his shuffling feet. Hamilton waited for him to continue. "I know I've mucked up a lot this year." The headmaster coughed. "For many years, sorry, sir. But I don't want to end up being unemployed and unable to support my family. My dream felt awful. I want to do more with my life, which is why I want to finish high school. I don't want the dream, the premonition to come true."

Hamilton studied the boy's downcast face. He seemed earnest enough, and obviously, the dream had affected him. But would the effect only be short term?

"I'm inclined to believe, Edwards, that your dream was not a premonition, assuming such things exist. But simply the result of something you've watched on TV or at the cinema."

Charlie looked up and shook his head. "No, sir, it can't have been. It was too real. I was there, and it was happening to me. I'm sure it was a premonition. It was a warning of how my life will be if I don't finish high school and sit my exams next year."

Hamilton sighed. There were reports to be signed, and he had a pile of other paperwork. And yet, the tale of the dream was intriguing. He decided to humour the boy.

"If it was a premonition, as you say, Edwards, do you believe you can alter your future, your destiny?"

Charlie was exhausted. "I don't know, Mr Hamilton. All I know is the dream, premonition, nightmare or whatever it was scared me. And I promise I will do better at school if I'm given another chance."

Hamilton stopped tapping his fingers. His mind wandered back to his early army days, on patrol in the jungle. One night he had dreamed of an ambush and had woken stricken with fear. The following day, Private Hamilton was even more vigilant than ever. He spotted the tripwire and glint of binoculars and called out for the patrol to take cover. There was a firefight, and there were injuries but no casualties. And backup soon arrived.

But, in his dream, his premonition, most of the patrol had died in the ambush, including Hamilton.