Not a Violin Virtuoso
Attack of the Heavy Machinery
Shaft! Wait, no...
A Dream Within a Dream
Dave and Randomness
Fun at College
Broadway Baby
The Results of Orientation
Classes Begin at College
First Week at College
The Storm
Thank God it Wasn't Another Pool Party!
Orientation
No Escape
Pool Party II
Paris and Ioan: A Beautiful Combination
Fairly Nightmare-ish
Pool Party
A Moorland Graduation
The Angry Russian
Tuesday Night
"Who Let the Dogs Out?"
Will I "Survive" at College?
Around the Campfire
"My Toilet Runneth Over with Love [for *NSYNC]"
My Cameo on "Survivor"
Bones, Bones, Bones!
A Quest for a Toilet
Starring Me as Jesus
A Trip to Japan
"Scream"?
Tifty
"The Scarlet Pimpernel" Continues to Plague Me
Terry and Bruno and Spanakopita -- Oh My!
Yet Another Baby
An Invasion
I Can Play Any Part

Hurt 2
Drugs In America
i met paul
Flying
when survival is the final conclusion no matter what
Polytechnic in Chicago...
the dying star
Fairly Nightmare-ish
the car, and a fight about Jesus
tom or dan?
my boyfriends mother
My Unicorn
Pregnant with Secrets
the epic
18 October 1995: Cracking the Ice
Confused
The Angel of Stinky Music
Waiting For The Manson Girls
The one where Lauren is stuck in a weird version of Cyberella
my life dream
pennies
runing away and people dieing
The North Pole
some dreams I never wanna forget-but almost have.
French Class

Author: jeyre





For some reason I was in a library studying (?) with my friend Melissa and "Bob" (I think I mentioned him in a previous dream...I had/still have a small crush on him). I'm not sure what we were studying, but I know that I really wanted to concentrate. So did Bob. Melissa kept bugging me, however, repeatedly asking me questions. I felt obligated to answer her, so I did.



Bob grew extremely mad. His face became bright red and he stood up. He yelled at us for being so incredibly rude and obnoxious. Then, he began mumbling something. I finally realized he was speaking Russian (and most likely insulting Melissa and I).



Recognizing the language, I couldn't help but smile. I have always loved Russian. I looked at him sweetly, and said, "Russian? That's my favorite..."



"Favorite language," he finished, somewhat subdued. He seemed to be pleased that I knew Russian when I heard it.



Later, I regretted having told him that Russian was my favorite language. I simply like the sound of it, I don't speak it. And he probably knew very well that I speak French and that it is actually my foreign language of choice.

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