"I talk'st of nothing"

True, I talk of dreams,
Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,
Which is as thin of substance as the air
And more inconstant than the wind, who woos
Even now the frozen bosom of the north,
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.
      -- R&J Act1 Scene 4

I know this is a little late in the discussion of dreams, but I haven't been putting this off on purpose; instead I have been waiting for a dream to which I could do at least the slightest amount of justice.  We'll see what I can do, so here it goes:

My dream started by me finding myself in a class room in Wilson Hall, a nightmare even on the best of days.  I found myself in a Ling 238 (Formerly Eng 238) Structure and Function of Language class, a class I took last semester.  However, I was not enrolled in the class.  Instead, I had applied to teach the class and had just found out that I did not get the position so I had stopped by to see who did.  I did not recognize the person (who was also a student) who was teaching, but after a few short minutes of listening to this person speak, I began to realize that this person was going to do a bad job.  Obviously this upset me.  I preceded to make a scene in the back of the class and stormed out.  Upon leaving the class I realized that Dr. Sexson was the professor who recommended this person to teach the class so I was upset with him and then after leaving the class, I found myself going around in circles within the maze that is Wilson Hall.


I'm not even going to attempt to interpret this or even say anything else about it, but I'm just throwing it out there for everyone to read.