Living the Dream
You know that dream you have where you show up to class on the last day of the semester and you realize that you have a huge exam and a paper due and a presentation and you won’t graduate if you don’t finish this course and your grandmother just died and you don’t have any pencils with erasers on them and that really sad song that reminds you of your ex is playing and you’re wearing two different socks and you have indigestion and your professor hates you and the kid behind you won’t stop clicking his pen and your favorite seat is taken and there’s a bee that keeps threatening to sting you and you’re naked and wait, you don’t even remember signing up for this course…
Yeah.
posted by Kara Alison @ 7:24 PM
6 comments
6 Comments:
Oh, Kara. I'm so sorry. :(
One more week...I can do it!
That is a scary condensed nightmare. I was wondering when the nekkid part was going to pop in. It always does.
You forgot to mention sitting next to the kid with extreme Halitosis. You can't breathe, you start to panic, you need Oxygen! Everything is going black! I can't see!
Oh wait...it's all the black hair on the bad breath guy's face and body. Breathing on me!!!!
Quick, where's my Certs?!!!!
(they still sell those?)
Hey, it happended ...10th grade.
Scarred for life, I am.
This too shall pass and you will perservere! I did ... my nose hasn't completely forgotten, but I survived! You will too.
You might be left with a "click-tic" though. **shudder**
Michele - I added a little something about halitosis to the version I shared in my poetry workshop. Thanks!
Jason - well...maybe except for the naked part... Semester is almost over now though. Thank goodness
Hang in there, Kara. :)
The truly disturbing thing is that the nightmare comes back to haunt you in later life too.
Every now and then I have the same nightmare; back in school, knowing I've an exam to take, knowing that I haven't studied, having forgotten everything I ever learnt about the subject in the first place...
... and my school days are half a lifetime away.
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