Last night I dreamed I was going back to grad school. And I was a guy, who wore powder blue sweat suits. Also, I had a baby, about 6 months old (a boy), and a friend of mine who was also going back to school had a baby about six months old (a girl) and we decided to get an apartment together.
One of my professor’s gave me an assignment to think of my favorite boy’s names because apparently I hadn’t named my son yet. I was leaning heavily toward Francis Alexander or Francis Grafton – Frank – when I flew (without help of an aircraft, just flew) to my professor’s trailer, where she lived a ways from campus, to report on my progress.
One of my first classes was a pop culture class. I wanted American pop culture but the professor was big into Romanian pop culture and so that was what the entire class was going to be about. The first question we were being asked to consider was whether we had a personal prejudice against Romanian women, who, apparently, don’t have the same standards of hair care as American women.
I was flunking chemistery. We were several weeks into the semester and I couldn’t even remember when the classes were. I looked at one of the books and it was an utter mystery to me. I was trying to figure out if I was still in time to drop or if I was going to take a fail.
Also, there was some big party in a nearby hotel that was very fancy and I went. Don’t remember the occasion.
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