In this dream, which falls into the “back-to-school” category, I was confused and disorganized on the first day of school. I couldn’t figure out the names of the classes, or where the classrooms were.
More than once, I told myself: “I have to get organized…ask someone for my schedule…figure this out…” But there was no time for any of that. It was always time to move on to the next class. I’ll do it on my lunch break, I decided.
Deciding to just go with the flow, I began taking notes. No luck there, because the lecture was moving too quickly. My pen didn’t work. Glancing down, I saw that my notes were all illegible scribbling.
Doubts nagged at me, and paranoid suspicion too. Had the registrar perversely given me someone else's schedule? The classes were just too weird, tackling obscure fringe topics in an eclectic mixture of disciplines I couldn't pin down. A smiling female professor lectured while lying on the floor amidst a pile of pillows. Everyone else thought this was normal. Struggling to bring order to my confusion, I asked the person next to me: what class are we in? I also asked the faculty some pointed questions, such as: What is your name? How is this class going to benefit me? I couldn’t get clear answers.
Then I asked a brusque professor: which department teaches this class? "History," he barked. I found myself trotting along beside this professor, babbling “I love history. Always have. I wanna become a historian.” He gave me a sidelong glance and walked briskly away. Perhaps I’d been given at least one class I requested, I thought glumly.
Finally, a pretty girl smiled at me and said “I’m so glad you’re going to be with us here at Columbia.” I marveled: I am a student at Columbia University. How did that happen?
Further Reading
Freud, Sigmund. The Interpretation of Dreams. Franz Deuticke, Leipzig and Vienna. 1899.
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