December 3, 2005

• To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

  (Likely Result If You Try to Read This Whole Entry)
  

  Last night I went to Salem’s “Mega-Night” of basketball–four games,
  girls and boys JV and varsity.  Returning to a school building
  apparently got my subconscious mind spinning.  Interpret this dream, if you
  dare:

  I found myself back at the Illinois State University Library, reading
  an enthralling book by my church’s current youth minister (not his real
  job title) on how to stand up for yourself and your opinions on a
  university campus whose values and beliefs may be extremely hostile to
  Christianity.  That was the first chapter.  The second
  chapter started to inform me about what a great, full-of-camels,
  democratic paradise Argentina used to be until a communist dictator
  took it over and ruined the country.  Suddenly I realized I was
  late for my class on the other side of campus.  Or rather, I had a
  vague notion that I was in danger of being late, since I didn’t know
  what time it was or when the class was supposed to start.  Oh
  well, big deal.

  The campus was bustling with students walking to and fro as I strolled
  down the quad on a bright sunshiny day.  Some kind of synchronized
  campus protest shouting was heard and grew louder as a mob of angry
  students marched by, carrying a huge cylinder with the word “UNITY”
  painted on the side.  “Hmm...Rather ironic, rallying for
  unity when they’re apparently so angry and divisive,” I thought. 
  “Hypocrites.”  As I got closer to the building where my class was
  to be held, some guy whizzed by on roller blades and ran over my
  foot.  It surprised me but didn’t hurt enough to warrant crying
  out in pain or yelling at the guy.  

  I arrived at the building and realized I couldn’t go in because I had
  no idea which room my class was in.  Then I saw a former HS
  classmate’s brother, and the HS classmate himself was not far behind in
  arriving.  “Ah, good,” I said and explained I’d forgotten where
  our class was and asked if I could just follow him there.  But
  first I had to leave my coat and shoes at the check-in and put on some
  roller-skates to enter the building.  Once inside, the
  roller-skates were immediately nonexistent as I followed my classmate,
  but then I had to go back out and move the pile of clothes I had left
  in everybody’s way at the check-in.  Unfortunately, that made me
  even later and I lost track of my classmate amongst the other students
  that were streaming into the building and making their way down the
  halls.  Fortunately, I found some other late students to join up
  with, including a guy who I recalled upon waking as a former optometry
  school classmate.  As we hastily made our way through the halls,
  he said encouragingly, “We can still make it!”  At one point, an
  exit-type sign read “Silence” so our conversation ceased.  We
  wound through hallways and stepped into a lecture hall in a round
  section of the building (a series of lecture halls split by dividers
  into pie-shaped rooms–if one left the dividers open, it would be
  theoretically possible to run laps through all the rooms–but you
  wouldn’t want to do that when classes were in session).  Students
  were already seated and a prof was up lecturing.  “Uh oh, that
  means we’re late after all,” I thought, but it was obvious this was the
  wrong classroom so we moved on.  After one or two more wrong
  classrooms, my classmate said, “It’s downstairs on the lower level!”
  and the late crowd hurried into the hallway, down some stairs, and
  finally arrived at our “music/art appreciation” class–a darkened
  lecture hall with the professor speaking below from a lighted stage.
   

  We latecomers were each on our own now as we attempted to approach our
  seats most stealthily so the prof wouldn’t notice and penalize us for
  coming in late.  I just hoped there wouldn’t be a pop quiz like
  one of the other profs had mentioned as we’d zipped through his
  classroom.  Some weird music played.  I spotted apparently
  empty chairs, but closer inspection revealed jackets upon them.  I
  crept to another one and sat down.  Instantly, the lights went up
  and the professor turned sharply, fixed a burning gaze upon the class,
  and tapped his head to trigger the final strains of the “Twilight Zone”
  theme to resonate throughout the classroom.  He grinned.  I
  was alarmed to be pointed out by the girl sitting next to me and
  noticed that several other tattletales pointed to my tardy-in-arms
  comrades as well.  We were busted.  

  We each in turn had to state our names and reason for being late as the
  prof gleefully scrawled the information down.  I was the second
  person to be called on.  A few scattered voices from around the
  room said “Dr. Dan!” in a tone of recognition and mild surprise. 
  “Oh, yeah,” I thought.  “I already have a degree and a job. 
  What do I care about being a little late for some silly class?” 
  Anyway, all eyes were on me so I began to explain that I had lost track
  of the time, and I wasn’t certain when the class started anyway. 
  I thought it was eleven.  But just that moment my eye spotted
  11:15 on the clock and I had to backtrack and say, “Uh...let’s just go
  with ‘I lost track of time,’ then.”  Chuckles came from the
  class.  I was going to explain some more, but then an exquisitely
  cute young blond woman basically told me to shut up and started talking
  with her face hovering about two feet away from me.  I’m not sure
  what she was saying because I kept getting distracted by a giant fuzzy
  bunny hopping and frolicking around in the distance behind her. 
  Suddenly, it vanished.  The young woman fixed me with piercing
  blue eyes, seeming to look right through me and read my thoughts. 
  “I control the bunny,” she said.  It appeared again.  “Hmm...I
  guess she’s right," I thought,  "How is she doing that?"  All
  in all, a real “Galadriel” moment.

  And then I woke up.   

  • 8:19 am
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