Today I received two messages from Lesley University regarding my acceptance to the graduate Creative Writing program. One came by snail-mail, and aside from telling me that I’d been accepted (which I already knew), provided no useful information whatsoever. My program wasn’t covered in the materials they sent me at all. The other message I received by e-mail and it had every bit of information I could have asked for and more. This begs the question: Why waste money on paper and postage to provide me with a heap of useless catalogs when you’ve already sent me a no-cost, electronic message that covered everything I needed to know?
Whatever. I’m not going to criticize the decision-making process of a university that just accepted me into one of its programs. I think the rule is that you have to wait until after your first class before you start shitting on your school.
Although… I’m sure there some Bradfordites who didn’t even wait that long. I’ll never understand the people who shit on that school and then left. I understand the people who shit on it and stayed though.
I’m a weirdo.
The first few days back at work have been so stressful that I’ve woken in the middle of the night each night with horrible nightmares. On Monday or Tuesday night I had a dream about a class at Bradford and there were this group of Arabic kids arguing with a group of white kids at the front of the class and then, just as the argument reached its peak, all of the Arabic kids pulled out AK-47s and rifles and started shooting the rest of us. They tried to shoot me three times as I hid behind a desk before they finally ran.
In the dream, sometime after that, Peter was counseling us and then giving advice on how to successfully navigate the school’s lawn without getting shot by the snipers.
I have a lot of dreams about terrorists attacking Bradford while I’m there. I had another one a long time ago where they lined us all up along the side of Denworth Hall and started shooting us one by one. It was only at the last second, as I saw the bullet speeding towards my head in slow-motion, that I woke up.
There are several recurring themes in my dreams… things that always come back. One of them is this gigantic labirynth that is accessible from my parents’ basement and from the back hallway of a convenience store somewhere in Littleton, MA. The maze of caves and such lead many places and they remind me of The Goonies. The tunnels exit at a huge dump, in between heaps of trash.
I don’t know why I’m writing this all down tonight, but I rarely have such clear visions of all these recurring dreams.
I think I’ll leave it at that though. It’s time for me to go to bed and hopefully, have some nicer images flood through my mind.