So I had a dream that my Modern American Poetry professor was in. When I told him about it, he laughed a lot and said I should document it in a story--or, better yet, a poem! He actually posted it on his blog:
http://thelaverytory.blogspot.com/2009/11/school-dream.html. So enjoy! :)
School Dream I'm sick,
barely able to make it
through Drama,
and walking across campus
in wet socks.
The thought of skipping your class
sounds blissful.
I'll draft an email—later.
Surprise!
In my apartment
I find my tortured classmates
crammed inside.
"A change of venue,"
you chirp
"Peck can be so dull,
and this is just
so lively!"
I moan
shuffle to my bed
and faceplant my pillow
still in wet socks.
Hours later, conscious again,
I moan
shuffle from my bed—
But you
still coursing and discoursing
pause to ponder why
I look like a zombie?
I'm sick.
Suddenly,
everyone else feels remorse for
invading my sanctuary
But you
you query,
"Have you any herbal tea?"
Some dread dreams
of falling or
nakedness or
death
Not me!
Dr Lavery, wet socks, and herbal tea.
