I am in Computer Programming.
I signed up for this class because a) I needed another science to graduate, and b) the professor looks like a Russian hobbit and has a rad accent. Upon reflection, I don't think those were good enough reasons.
This class occurs three times a week at 8:15 in the morning. I spend the entire time on style.com and The Sartorialist and various online shopping locales. The only time I utilize my brain during these classes is to laugh at the hilarious misspellings on the screen and accidentally inappropriate terms the prof implements. Example: n_word and c_word as programming names. I create my own private hilarities, like d_bag as the designator for all dialog boxes.
Somehow this isn't enough for me.
No creative output or input in my life is making my dreams scarily vivid and long.
Last night I dreamed that I was a Chinese delivery girl addicted to watching William Shatner-narrated documentaries in hotel rooms with various men. Somehow these little night time adventures were also interpreted by my brain as youth group evangelism opportunities. I delivered ramen noodles in steel briefcases. One day I found a client dead in the shower, covered in blood. He was a friend of mine, but no one took me seriously when I said he was dead. There was no investigation. At an Ambrose chapel service, we were passing the peace when I saw him standing with his friend. No one believed that he had even faked his death; he kept me from saying so by giving me gifts that his mother had made. Pictures of frogs and my campers from KBK. Group photos of the day I found him dead, all of us smiling. All I wanted to do was punch someone or watch more Shatner dvds.
I wish I could fall asleep and press record. I would re-watch my dreams in this God-forsaken class.
Would you use a dream recording device if you were contractually obligated to view all of the recorded dreams you ever recorded in the company of your family and loved ones?
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely not, Fra-Fra.
ReplyDeleteI'd rather die a thousand deaths.