Wednesday

Sigh. I had another dream about so and so Wednesday morning. If I don’t mention her name can I mention her? And it was a nice dream, because I was getting her back. I remember two bits. One her son telling me about their new ghost (she did move to a haunted house after we split, allegedly) but it wasn’t actually her son but a boy who was in the year below me at boarding school. I’m not sure why my subconscious used him. I had no particular like or dislike for him, whereas in the dream he was very sweet, like my ex's boy. Mind you, this old school acquaintance did stab a boy called Elton with a pencil though there is something to be said for that, because Elton was the closest I’ve come to seeing evil incarnate in a person.

Another bit was me going into the bathroom and massaging so and so's back. That was when I knew she was open to letting me back in the relationship. She started telling me that her current one wasn’t working out. Her partner’s wife was back on the scene. Not likely, but it felt good. To be back in the snuggly world of SO AND SO. It’s a very reductive fantasy and one I couldn’t tap into when I was with her.

Moving on, later in the morning I accidentally went to a seminar that I might not have needed to go to because I went to Daniel's and this one was with another chap. That said, because I didn't yet have my timetable I didn't know which seminar group I was in.

On the way there I walked past a student wearing a mass produced t-shirt saying 'Normal people scare me' in faux-painted typeface. Her hair (blue) and black jeans and Conversey sneakers were similar to that of many girls on campus.

 

As it happened, in the seminar we didn't do Plath but did do the Shakespeare sonnet and I saw all sorts of things in it that I hadn't seen during our brief look the day before. 

And these classes are brief. They are just 50 minutes and the numbers are large. Quite honestly, it's inadequate, because there is very little time for any discussion. We were given two lines to look at in groups and the tutor went round the class asking us what our groups thought of these two lines. That was it. Class over. We got next to no time to express our ideas (perhaps less than 60 seconds each), whereas I had covered the poem in my thoughts and was eager to discuss it. 

Mind you, the girl next to me said she was Swiss and didn't understand the poem, and the girl next to her said she didn't like poetry. What is more, seminars used to be 2 hours but have been reduced in time by student request. So I'm outvoted. Innit.

Later, I had a class with a witch, who will be teaching me short story writing. I liked her. She's quirky and approachable, saying that we can arrange a meeting to talk with her about anything, including how our weekend has gone. So I met her later that afternoon and asked her if her cats were getting enough sleep. At the end of the semester we have to submit a 1500 word story. Most of mine are longer, but  I do have a 1500 word one that won Hour of Writes, so that is something I can fall back on if the muse isn't kind to me. The whole idea is the course is going to teach us how to write but I think the truth is if you need a course to teach you you probably shouldn't be writing. I hinted this to Dr DeAnne, who asked why was I doing the course then. I said previously I was living alone in a garret whereas now I can meet people.

The meeting people thing is actually not working out so far. I know nobody. I'm still in my little world.