I had a series of strange dreams last night, but the most notable was this:
I was back in my apartment in Minneapolis with a bunch of people, one of them the brother of the partner of a friend in my department, who I've only met once and who lives in Seattle. Somehow, we decided we needed to clean the floor, and soon everyone was using buckets and brushes in different rooms. The finished product was really amazing; my floor, which in real life has the character that only a century of livin' can impart, and is composed of narrow maple boards, had a warm, pinkish tone and an almost pearlescent luster.
On my couch was a pile of papers, which belonged to the boy I mentioned earlier. He's a PhD student in geology in real life, but looks about 18, and in the dream he was getting ready to start college. He was on the phone trying to figure out his schedule or finances or something--he was worried he wouldn't be able to start school that day.
Then I realized he was enrolled--or enrolling--at the U, and that I, too, was supposed to be starting school. It was 4:00 on Monday! What classes did I have today? What had I missed? Could I make it to my evening class on time?
It was cloudy and rainy, but I was still going to take my bike, and was frantically getting ready to go. Then, slowly, I realized that I didn't know what classes I was taking... because I had been supposed to e-mail a few different professors at my advisor's recommendation... and hadn't yet... because school didn't start for another two and a half weeks.
I was giddy with relief.