I Dream a Dream

How often do you dream? Do you ever have dreams that keep coming back? I had one last night and I thought I’d share it with you, just in case you ever wonder what goes on inside my mind. There are at least three dreams that keep coming back to me. One has to do with our family sawmill. One has to do with the 1989 Ford Probe I used to own. One has to do with my time in university. This is the one that came last night.

It’s at least half way through the semester, if not near the end. Part way through the morning, I realize that I have missed my class. The truth is, I have been missing this particular class for most of the semester. My attendance has been so poor in fact that I have to look at my schedule to figure out where the room is. It happens to be my first class of the day, and most of the time I miss the class because I forget that I even have it.

The class in question is a math class. I know that the finals are coming and that it would be nearly impossible for me to come out with a passing grade. I always take comfort in knowing that I’ll have room in next semester’s schedule to make up for the lost credit. Whenever I look at the subject matter, the questions are far beyond my comprehension. Even though I likely won’t pass, I look at my time table and try to figure out where the class is, even though I know I’ll be walking in late. Sometimes I make it to the class and sometimes I do not. Last night I don’t think I made it to the class, but I did figure out that the class was in the MacKinnon building.

Maybe it’s just a weird dream, but I often wonder why it keeps coming back. I’ve never failed a course. I remember being in University and being told that it’s ok to drop a course before the deadline if it seems way too difficult. It’s better to make up the credit later than to have a failure or a poor grade drag down your average.

I never subscribed to that kind of thinking. In third year, I had a great deal of difficulty in my English course. I played with the idea of letting it go since it wasn’t part of my major, but something just seemed wrong about quitting something that I had started. So I struggled through and came out with a decent, but unimpressive mark at the end of it all. English always has been my most difficult subject. I suppose it’s rather strange that I have ended up spending so much time writing.

There you have it. If you can figure out what’s wrong with me, it would be greatly appreciated.