So this morning when I woke up, it was in the middle of an awful dream. I was in a college level (I think) English course with my 8th grade English teacher, and we were taking a timed reading comprehension test. Now, normally, I aced reading comprehension–those were always my best on the SAT’s and stuff. To make it even easier, we were using these books either used by fourth graders, or four year olds–I can’t remember. In this dream, however, everyone else in the class finished, while I was only 1/4 of the way through. I FAILED! After the test was over, I learned that I hadn’t listened to all of Mrs. Hunter’s instructions, and she had actually given us a way to look up the answers in a different book at the back of the book I was using… imagine my embarrassment. We went on to have a retest for myself and one other girl in the class, but still I couldn’t find the answers–I could hardly read, and I just didn’t understand what I was supposed to be doing.

It all felt strangely like a MacHeist I didn’t understand.

Anyway, this is the stuff (sort of…) my nightmares are usually composed of–I graduated in English over 2 1/2 years ago, but I still dream about signing up for classes that I then forget to attend, and miss tests, or get lost in. And now add to that list fail tests that are way below the level of comprehension I should be at. Sometimes I joke that my husband is my worst nightmare, because he does fail classes or miss tests occasionally on accident… the idea of failing terrifies me, I guess. It’s probably good that we ended up together so that he can help me break that fear down a little. Or something like that.