I wake up in a cold sweat. Mr. Dickson was just telling me I would not be graduating. I had signed up for a class and then forgotten about it. I had failed.
Wait a minute, why is the room dark? Where’s Mr. Dickson, wasn’t I just talking to him? I stagger to my feet and stumble to the bathroom.
I’m never going to be able to show my face around here again, my professors will be so disappointed in me.
Wait a minute, how old am I? I’m 41. I graduated 19 years ago, right? My parents were there. I wore a robe. They called my name. It happened, I know it did.
It must have been a dream. I can go back to sleep now, I don’t have to get up for work for another couple hours.
For years after graduation I used to have this same dream. Then it went away. Now it’s back. Why is it back, why?