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.
