My Dreams - Dreams - Deja Vu, College Style


	Frannyglass Dreams

	I Could Have Gotten Detention For This Stalker In Training Vacations Don't Always Clear Your Head Off to the Mountains The Ones You Least Suspect Don't Drive to Boston I guess I'm sick of winter. Obviously, I have family issues. The Amazing Animated Slime Mold Don't Think About Texas David Sedaris Doesn't Have All the Answers Even a Sock Puppet Can't Save Me Upstaged Makeshift Runway The Death of Indie Boy My Stalker Soulmate Imaginary Friends Indie Boy Falls in Love What Are the Odds? College In the Woods Airport Under Attack Bart Simpson, SUV Driver More School Dreams Dysfunctional Family Vacation Three Mixed-Up Places A Fine Educational Institution Why I Shouldn't Go Back to High School Please Make These High School Dreams Stop! Slimy Fish, Blood, Bad Poetry, and Other Things of Annoyance In Which I Get Hungry The Weird Running Girl Cheers on the Team Welcome Home to the Eve 6 Apartments The Dorky Road Trip Rich and Stupid The Starving Shutterbug A Wholesome Night Out I Swear I Would Follow Anything... Just Get Me Out of Here Not Quite as Fun as a Blue Light Special I Challenge You To a Duel Deja Vu, College Style The Love Child That Wasn't Just a Little Awkward The Two Enthused Concertgoers Shopgirl Beauty Queens Why You Shouldn't Date Me Five Beers to Forget The Game Room Crack-Up I Shocked the Monkey Always Second Guessing At the Movies I watch too much syndicated TV. When I go to New York, I'll know not to spend my entire visit in an elevator. Speed Racer is Dead. Night School In Which I Become a Whiny Brat Friend From Another Planet How My Fanatically Popular Ex Became a Powerpuff Girl Why I Don't Spend Spring Break At the Mall More Reasons to Avoid Family Vacations What Do I Hear When I Say I Hear the Call of the Road? Grilled Cheese and the Magical John Updike The Unmasked Ex Trying to Forget Your Name The Tribe Has Spoken Shakespeare, Kung Fu, and the Manhattan Countryside "So I'm standing in this rye field..." and other bad literary allusions. Why I Avoid Family Vacations The Forgotten Sister Home Invasion The Flying Train Let's Just Be Friends The Masochist Strikes Again We be hangin' in sex ed, yo. The Psychotic Psychologist So It Goes A Nacho Cheesier Reconciliation The Rummage Sale That Wasn't Ex-Boyfriend Dream #4007 Forgetful Me How 'Bout No Longer Being Masochistic? Birthday Bust Big Time Shopper Would you like fries and a hooker with that? Every Night is Ladies' Night at The Crab Shack Pseudo Revenge on the Ex Holiday Party Reject Extraordinaire The Time is Out of Joint TV Heroines Don't Get Dumped for Gay Guys, Do They? Holiday Cheer The Distorted Boyfriend and Other Stories It's the Cheesiest Gone Snowboardin' Laura comes home. Going to Ithaca Chris the Druggie


	Random Dreams

	My Record Store Chickens on fire! Sneaky rendez-vous Mourning the End of the World Night School DREAM OF MR. PERCEVAL'S MURDER The School House a hot cop saves my life in a haunted house. Incubus or hallucination? My sleep paralysis experiences. The day he cared APC...and other stuff. People I know, my aunty the whore, the cemetary and Dante something thorns Stealing a gameboy steep freedom it's a boy! Chinese Ambassador Randomness Safe part one albert Peaceful Field Club Classic I didn't even get to throw the bouquet Adam's smooth spaghetti sauce

Deja Vu, College Style

Author: Frannyglass

It was the beginning of fall semester at the University of Georgia, and I, in my characteristically dorky manner, was terrifically excited about my new schedule. I had a writing class, a literature class, a Latin class, and some other class that I've forgotten but that which surely sounded cool. All the classes were taught by professors I hadn't had before, but had heard good things about. So I headed off to my first day of class with a geekily optimistic attitude.

UGA in the dream didn't look anything like UGA in real life. Actually, it looked a lot like the UGA I dreamt of a month or two ago (in a dream I didn't write down, I don't think): tall, modern buildings that looked suspiciously like the Guggenheim Museum in New York. No trees. Slick white sidewalks and staircases connecting everything together. It all looked more like a machine than a college.

Inside, though, the classrooms looked about the same as they do in real life. I got to my writing class and found that it was taught by Dr. Nagel, a terribly conceited professor I had during my sophomore year. I knew he was going to turn the writing class into yet another class in which he told self-serving anecdotes. He assigned us some really easy book to read ... something like Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men that I had read in the tenth grade. I figured I would have better luck with my later classes.

I went to my Latin class and at first thought I was in the wrong room. The classroom was full, and a dark-skinned woman was at the front drilling some verbs to the class. Then she stepped out of the room... and Dr. Nagel walked in. He said he was going to be the full-time instructor for the class. I looked at my schedule and found that I was in the right room at the right time. The woman came back and took roll. Sure enough, my name was on it.

After that, I went to lunch, which really consisted of me eating a peanut butter sandwich in the middle of a staircase while other students walked around me.

I went to literature class after that and found that Dr. Nagel would be teaching that class as well. By that point, however, I was feeling somewhat blasé about the whole thing and had already written off the semester.

Latin
Museum
Mice
Latin

Next: Cemetery
Previous: A Moorland Graduation

Report
Privacy

SHARE

BOOKMARK