Dreamt of showing up late for class after having failed to do my homework. We were supposed to answer three questions about the reading: 1) “What was the author’s name?” 2) “How old was she when she started writing?” and 3) “What was the reading about?” Our answers were to be turned in on a Post-It note. I overheard two other students mention the author’s name, “Fuldonando,” and seemed to recall that she’d started writing when she was thirty-two years old. And thinking that partial credit was better than no credit, I looked around for a pen and a Post-It note.
I arrived at our table to find it was covered with Post-It notes, but they already had writing on them. I asked Yuko-hime if I could borrow one from her. She hold it out but yanked it back when I reached for it. As my anxiety started to build, she began mocking my ticks and hand gestures, making fun of me.
I woke up crying.
Dreamt of coming home once more to find my roommate’s teen-aged son’s stuff — mostly collectable toys of some sort — all over the apartment. There was so much stuff it was hard to move. And I was fed up. As I cleaned a place on the table to set the groceries down, I began tossing his Star Wars action figures and other items into a big pile. “It’s time for you to move out,” I told him, “Mess up your own f–king place.”
The next day he was gone and the kitchen and dining room were immaculate. They were so clean they sparkled. I should’ve been happy. But sorrow filled me and I woke up crying.
Dreamt of watching the dance floor as some students from Luther Ballroom were warming up. The were doing something bizarre with their legs and hips in their cha cha that made them looking very squatty. When I pointed out that wasn’t what Yuko-hime and I had shown them, they said, “This is what our regular coach told us to do, and she’s the professional.”
“I don’t care, but if that’s what they said, they’re an idiot.” I responded, shocking them silent. “Have you seen how you look? Does it look good?”
Dreamt of following Greg W. down the corridor as he told me that, in addition to his house in Minnesota and his cabin in Wisconsin, he also had a house in Florida and an apartment complex in Kansas. “So you’re a slum lord?” I joked. He gave me a look has he opened the door to his apartment.
“You could say that,” he replied, “But I keep my properties in good order, unlike my landlord here.” He nodded upwards and to where the ceiling was falling in and leaking water.
Dreamt I shared an office cubicle with Wyatt G. I stretched and, with and audible rip, felt the elbows of my shirt tear out. Wyatt looked at me and said, “I could rip out my shirt, too, if I flexed!” Then he tried flexing and his shirt failed to tear.
“No,” I said, “If I’d been flexing, my shirt would’ve ripped out through the back. The elbows ripping is just wear.”
Dreamt a friend had a pet tiger. I knew it was as tame as tigers can get, but that just means it wouldn’t attack anyone unless it get very agitated. And it was very agitated. I tried to scratch its ears, but it kept shrugging me off. I tried scratching under its chin, too, and it me get close enough to start scratching its back. It seemed to shift from agitated to playful as it began nipping at me. I relaxed a little, thinking the crisis had passed. Then I felt its teeth puncture the skin on either side of my spine.
Dreamt that Yuko-hime had been dead for some time when an old, mutual friend approached me. She’d had secret feelings for me for years, but hadn’t brought them up because I was married. Even after all this time had passed since Yuko-hime’s death, I still couldn’t find it in me to return her feelings.