First, one dream ended. All I remember of it was that Glenn Greenwald was mentioned. Then I discussed someone’s book. No details from that remain with me. In the end, I was trying to explain what I meant but couldn’t think of a specific word. I tried writing it on a white board and wrote in lower case letters in red, ‘threat’. Standing back, I said, “That’s not what I meant to write.”
But a new dreamisode began. I was studying with others. We were a small class, five, learning in an old farmhouse. The other students and I were talking and joking when we were supposed to be studying. I picked up the book to try again. The subject was macroeconomics and my interest in learning it was low.
The teacher, a young, short white man with a black beard, entered and asked if we were ready for our exam. Other students who were younger than us approached our farmhouse. My class watched them out the window. We discovered they’d taken the same course and had already finished the exam. Not only that, but they were ahead of us on lessons.
My classmates and I were dismayed. We were expected to read several chapters, amounting to hundreds of pages, in a few days and then pass an exam on it? I laughed. “I need more time,” I said to the instructor.
“How much time?” he asked.
I laughed again. “A few years.”