In the 29 minutes between now and my Latin American culture test, I will hold forth on: the benefits of a drowsy quad afternoon, the horrors of the Urban Gothic novel, the Orwellian nightmare that is Barack Obama, and the life of a professional cane stripper.
Or I could just tell you about the dream I had night before last.
But then I should start with the POW-like injury I sustained yesterday. I was weaving my darned basket, and no I did not have gloves on because you can't wear gloves and weave a delicate basket, when a small cane-bamboo shoot just jammed straight under my left pointer fingernail. I stared at it for a moment in fascinated horror. Slash shock. Slash this basket thing has put me beyond caring so I just got up and pulled the splinter out. But then I remembered.
See, the night before I'd had this horrible dream about slicing open my left pointer finger. I had to wander around trying to keep a piece of kleenex wrapped around it and a bone was poking out and people were oblivious and I was like, "Guys? Um, can we do something about my hand?"
And then I hurt the same finger. The Very. Next. Day. I was a little bit creeped out. Was this a physical Freudian slip, where I unconsciously acted on some desire to harm myself? [To that: No. My subconscious prefers to let me knock against things and get abuse-worthy bruises. Even my subconscious is too cowardly for the searing pain of bamboo shoots under the fingernails.] Or was I subject to some kind of second sight? [An even freakier option.]
Then I remembered my Mom has predicting dreams. And I was comforted. If it's hereditary, it can't be bad. Right?
***
In other news, I am writing a paper on the theology of the urban gothic-sensational literature of mid-19th century America (low anguished groan). I realized last night I'm reading lots of books by/about Jews (Judaism is fascinating. And I really want to do that chair-dance thing at my wedding). I almost let myself sleep in this morning and skip the boring pointless class, but remembered in time that we have a test today.
A test, as in, 11 minutes. Bye.
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1 comment:
We've discussed this before!!! Predicting dreams are real...and non-satanic...I mean, they occur and are accurate and we did not illicit them! So we must accept them as they are - freaky. :]
I hope your finger is better, ouch :[
When does the semester end for you? Are you available the second week of May, because I hope to be in PC then!?
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