This is not that place

I used to have a dream where I woke up late and the final is today. Can’t drop the class, too late. It’s already started. Up the hill and into the law school. It feels impossible. Through the window of the room on the second floor of the junior high school a college class. Ancient dark-wood desks in a square like high school history and the math teacher is taking the exam along with his students. But it’s German. His face is calm and almost smiling, gently committed to his own blissful work. As if he has all the answers. The light through the achromatic windows is that of an old library, and it flattens on a black-salt, dust-stained dirty floor from which you would never pick up the candy and eat it.

Then there’s this other dream where everything, all of the work, is miraculously completed upon my arrival. This is not that place.
This is not that place
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One Comment to “This is not that place”

  1. That’s not a dream, that’s a nightmare. All my nightmares take place when I’m awake at 4a.m.
    Sweet landscape.

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