My cuckoo dream (don't have a whack-attack, dumb-dumb!)

A few nights ago I had an interesting dream:

I was sitting around in a class of mine. Desks were strewn all around and students were sitting on them and being rowdy; the classroom seemed to be open to the elements. Mr. Dell'Orto, my high school history teacher, announced that he was going away on a trip, and that we should behave ourselves and not do any drugs. He left with his 30-year-old and already bald student teacher. My fellow students quickly began celebrating the freedom of anarchy, and I decided to roll a joint and smoke it.

Unfortunately, as always happens in the best of teen movies, our favorite teacher returned early due to some sort of mishap. I was able to discard the Mary Jane, but there was no way I'd get rid of the smell in time to pass inspection. Mr. Dell'Orto quickly noticed the pervasive odor (and probably recognized it from his college years) and began systematically asking students who was responsible.

Sure enough, he pulled me into his classroom (which leads me to believe that our desks were actually outside) and told me this: "When I got back, everyone smelled like marijuana. When I asked them about it, they said it was you who was smoking, AND that you were shooting heroine."

I quickly explained, "Mr. Dell'Orto, I was NOT shooting heroine, but I was smoking pot. But here's the thing, I'm a time traveler and I smoke marijuana because it helps me relax and avoid going to another time and pla-"

Just then, it seems that the stress of the moment overcame me and I immediately transported to a different location a few days earlier, where the dream continued...