The first thought running through my head would be: "Wait a minute... I graduated long ago. This is just a lingering stress dream." With that in mind, I know I can evade and beat this school shooter. So I step out into the hallway and yell out, "Hey punk. Come face me." He does, weapon raised and teeth gritted, a crazed look in his eye. He blasts away, but in the instant before the bullet reaches me, I summon a giant rubber ducky. The duck explodes in the barrage of gunfire, turning into hundreds... no, THOUSANDS... of smaller rubber duckies. Now, here's a little secret I've learned about dreams and rubber duckies: school shooters fucking LOVE rubber duckies. Can't get enough of them. I see tears in his eyes as he lays down his arms, surrounded by quacking little yellow bunches of rubber. He raises his arms as they come to him, gradually transforming him into a rubber ducky. Then they all disappear. Where? No one knows exactly. He'll face his punishment. He'll spend eternity full of regret... and air (remember, his a rubber ducky now, a little squeaky one somewhere in another plane of existence). Then I hurry to class; this is a stress dream, after all, and I completely forgot I have a test today.