Part of a reoccurring dream
happened last night. It's something that no matter how nonsensical
it seems, it still terrifies me to the core. I go to class, only to realize that I haven't been to that particular class in over 6-7 weeks (and considering that we only have 10 weeks/term, that's a lot of time I missed). The class was some random generic humanities
class, as it was before when I had a similar dream.
I walk into class, and ask what I missed, figuring that it wasn't much, or else I wouldn't have skipped a month and a half of classes to begin with. Apparently in this class, I missed a midterm, several term papers, and what was even worse, I missed the drop date, so I was stuck with the class no matter how bad I did in it.
The guy I was sitting next to told me that we have a paper due in about 2 days. I ask the prof what the paper is about (he's the really cool laid back type, he was my prof for my last term of humanities in my freshman year), he says (while holding the book up, and announcing it to the entire class), Tale of Two Cities, by Dickens. I'm relieved because I read that book before, but I know I'm still screwed. The paranoia sets in, no matter how well I do in this course, I'm doomed to fail it anyway, then I start to think of my other classes -- had I missed them all?
Then I woke up.