Day 2 Writing Homework
Writing Prompt:
Write a creative piece based on a powerful or unusual dream you’ve had ( or imagine one if you can’t remember a real dream).
Use descriptive language, figurative techniques & personal reflection to connect your dream to how you’re feeling throughout.
Please upload your homework as a comment below:
- Due Date : July 10, 2025
- Feedback will be shared in 3-5 days
11 thoughts on “Day 2 Writing Homework”
The Day Homework Ceased to Exist
I sensed something was fundamentally misaligned the moment I stepped onto school grounds and was met not by the usual stale scent of overused whiteboard markers and adolescent anxiety but by the unmistakable aroma of buttery popcorn hanging strangely in the morning air. My backpack, ordinarily a burden groaning with worksheets, forgotten lunch containers, and the quiet guilt of overdue assignments, felt peculiarly weightless — as though it contained nothing but the echo of obligation.
Inside, the atmosphere vibrated with a surreal lightness, an undercurrent of confusion masked by euphoria. Conversations, typically dominated by murmurs of deadlines and whispered panic over unsubmitted work, were replaced by bursts of laughter, unbothered and unearned. Something had shifted. Something seismic.
I passed my English teacher in the corridor — a man once so devoted to rubric and rigour he could make a comma splice feel like a felony — now wearing oversized sunglasses indoors, greeting me with an unapologetically enthusiastic pair of finger guns. “No homework today,” he declared, smiling with the reckless abandon of someone who had truly snapped — or been freed.
I stared, hesitant. “Just for today? Or…?”“For everyone. For everything. Forever””
He skateboarded away before I could question the logic of it.
Disbelieving, I raced to the noticeboard — where announcements usually trembled with threats of pop quizzes and uniform infractions — and found, instead, a gold-glittering poster declaring:
ATTENTION ALL STUDENTS:
HOMEWORK HAS BEEN PERMANENTLY ABOLISHED.
Live freely. Perform spontaneous cartwheels. Eat celebratory waffles. Embrace the chaos.
At first, the school erupted into a kind of utopian lunacy. Hallways transformed into indoor carnivals. Someone had brought a golden retriever into class, and no one questioned it. The library, stripped of purpose, morphed into a labyrinth of pillow forts and fairy lights. My math teacher — once a sentient calculator with a soul of algebra — was found in the quad, quietly building a sandcastle out of abandoned TI-84s.
But soon, the cracks began to show.
In science class, we sat before blank notebooks, paralysed by the absence of instruction, structure, and reason. In history, no one could recall which empire we were supposed to be studying — or if empires even mattered anymore. The bell, that once-reliable anchor of routine, rang without logic: sometimes twice within five minutes, sometimes not at all. Classes blurred into confusion. Someone in the art room was constructing a corkboard web of yarn and post-it notes labelled “The Homework Spirit is Trapped — and It’s Angry”
I wandered the building like a ghost in a house that no longer remembered how to be a home. The lack of Homework, once the fantasy that got us all through Monday, now felt like an erasure of purpose itself — a vanishing of momentum.
And then I saw her.
A younger version of myself — maybe from Year 6 — sitting alone at a single desk planted absurdly in the middle of the hallway, her pencil furiously scratching onto paper like her thoughts were on fire. She looked up at me, eyes ringed with fatigue but full of intent, and whispered, “Homework wasn’t the enemy. It was the thread. Without it, everything unravels””.
And just like that, I woke up, blinking at the ceiling above my bed, the room still vibrating faintly with the dream’s strange logic.
There, in the quiet, I understood something I’d never let myself admit: yes, school overwhelms me. Yes, Homework burdens me, frustrates me, and drains me. But beneath the complaints, beneath the wish for everything to stop, there lies the unspoken truth that structure is not the same as oppression. Sometimes, the things we rail against are the very things holding us together.
I still groan when I hear, It’s due next lesson.” But now, in some strange way, I also find comfort in it — the rhythm, the ritual, the reminder that I’m still moving forward.
And somehow, the backpack felt heavier that morning — but in a way that made me feel real again.
Please see the attached PDF for the feedback.
RW-Y5_D2 – anisur_misyahoo-com-au
I wake up to a whirring sound in my computer. It was on, and it was on chess.com. I dont know why but i wanted to see what was going on anyway. I was playing… Magnus Carlsen a grand master with a top elo of 2909. I couldnt believe it, it was my first time playing Magnus in chess.com, I played Anish and Gukesh but never Magnus! I was confused though, why would he play this late? But anyway i started. I played the sicillian opening, a classic e4, c5. Magnus fought back like a bull in a christmas stocking. He blundered a full queen easily winning a free rook also sacrificing my rook to attack on g5. He fell for it and it was mate in 5 if he played perfectly, and he did. But at the very last moment he blundered again loosing a free bishop which also attacked his king from e3 his pawn could of got it but judging my his last movements i wouldnt be surprised. I quickly premoved a back rank checkmate and crazy enough, I won! I celebrated until morning until i realised i woke up lying on my bed, and my computer wasnt even in my room.
Please see the attached PDF for the feedback.
RW-Y5_D2 – Jason Liang
Dear diary today I have a dream, and this is how it was.
I stood in the foyer of a house I didn’t remember building—but somehow knew. The floor pulsed beneath my feet, warm like skin. Water slid down the windows, though the sky outside was dry and still. Somewhere upstairs, a piano played itself.
The rooms unfolded around me, shifting with every breath. A hallway became a childhood bedroom. The wallpaper—flying horses—I used to believe they moved at night. The kitchen smelled like cinnamon and bleach. A chair on the ceiling whispered my name.
Flash—
My mother slicing apples at a sunlit table. “One day, you’ll build a place of your own.” She smiled like she knew she wouldn’t see it.
The attic appeared next, impossibly wide, filled with shadows that flinched. In its centre: a door.
DO NOT OPEN UNLESS YOU FORGOT.
I opened it.
Water walls. My reflection swam beside me, changing ages. “You never moved in,” it said. “You only visit.”
I fell through the houseroom to room—memories stacked like boxes. A hospital bed. A wilted flower. A crib with a letter:
“You are not lost. You just keep trying to come home.”
I landed in the living room. Every piece of furniture wore a white sheet. A photo on the mantle showed my mother. Then it changed. It was me.
The ceiling cracked open. The house breathed in.
I woke up.
Please see the attached PDF for the feedback.
RW-Y5_D2 – andrewding1982@gmail.com
I finally slept at around 9:30 last year, taking me into a vivid dream. I immediately saw mice chasing cats. I saw people walking. Backward. There were ants chasing lions and tigers, also with birds being devoured by worms. It was crazy! I tried to scream, but it was so quiet only I would have heard it. Now that is so strangely peculiar.
I started walking backward by force 5 minutes later, tripping myself constantly as I walked. I was shocked. I got to school from the garden, where the students taught the teachers. There were more teachers, but the students were in control. I joined the students and we even gave the teachers a test! It was sure fun being a teacher. But very tiring too.
I left school and saw a clock. Moving anticlockwise with numbers written backwards. I then saw an identical twin in front of me and I freaked out. It was so horrifying.
I went home and saw a strange thing-other people were inside my house! I screamed and that woke me up. In the morning. At 7:30. What a surprise! I slept for about 10 hours! And the dream would have only lasted for 15 minutes. Now that is something very weird. I never figured it out. How did that even happen?
I finally slept at around 9:30 last year, taking me into a vivid dream. I immediately saw mice chasing cats. I saw people walking. Backward. There were ants chasing lions and tigers, also with birds being devoured by worms. It was crazy! I tried to scream, but it was so quiet only I would have heard it. Now that is so strangely peculiar.
I started walking backward by force 5 minutes later, tripping myself constantly as I walked. I was shocked. I got to school from the garden, where the students taught the teachers. There were more teachers, but the students were in control. I joined the students and we even gave the teachers a test! It was sure fun being a teacher. But very tiring too.
I left school and saw a clock. Moving anticlockwise with numbers written backwards. I then saw an identical twin in front of me and I freaked out. It was so horrifying.
I went home and saw a strange thing-other people were inside my house! I screamed and that woke me up. In the morning. At 7:30. What a surprise! I slept for about 10 hours! And the dream would have only lasted for 15 minutes. Now that is something very weird. I never figured it out. How did that even happen? No clue.
Please see the attached PDF for the feedback.
RW-Y5_D2 – Jeremy Sun
The first thing I registered was the cold, smooth glass beneath my cheek. Not window glass, but something vast, curved, encompassing. I was lying, it seemed, on the inside of an enormous, transparent sphere, suspended in a cosmic void. Below me, swirling in blues and greens, was Earth – a jewel, impossibly close yet impossibly far. Above, a tapestry of stars, so dense and brilliant they bled into one another, forming rivers of light. No moon, no sun, just the luminous dust of a thousand galaxies.
Please see the attached PDF for the feedback.
RW-Y5_D1 – Lincoln Phan