Why he Hates Subway (Discontinued)

Bittersweet Dreams

I was back at my house, gazing at a white canvas that lay before me. I quickly realized that it wasn't just an empty wall. It was actually a laptop screen, its blue light enveloping me. I blinked about thirty times in a second, turning my head away from the brightness of the screen. The fact that I was staring at a virtual white page didn't help the situation.

I slowly looked back every once in a while, trying to adjust my eyes to the light. I squinted for about ten minutes, until I was finally ready to work on my laptop. I was supposed to be writing a paper about psychology for a project or something - it was a little fuzzy to me, but I figured it would come back as I wrote it. I laid my hands on the keyboard, inhaled a deep breath, and I started typing.

Wait... That doesn't make any sense. 

I had no idea what I was supposed to do. How could I write a paper about something I didn't know about? I knew some stuff about psychology, but nothing seemed to make sense. I dug through my book bag for answers, (it was directly on my right), and I found a little slip of paper. I pulled it out, trying my best to see it in the computer's light.

Hello, students.

As you know, we've been studying the strange reality of dreams in this course for about a couple weeks now. As a part of your final projects for this unit, I'm instructing you to write a two thousand word report on dreams. It should contain all of the things we've learned this unit - if you fail to include some facts that are necessary, then an appropriate number of points will be subtracted from your overall score. We'll go over this some more in class on Tuesday, but here are some basic grading guidelines:

Have you included the necessary facts? 60%

Does it have proper grammar, spelling, punctuation, etc? 30%

Is it engaging? 10%

Once again, these are just the basic facts. This final will be fully covered in class on Tuesday.

Have a good break!

-Mrs. Melissa

I had no idea about this project being assigned, but Mrs. Melissa was one of my college teachers. I was taking four classes - an advanced English course, an average math course, a psychology major, and a geological sciences minor. It was an odd set of classes, for an odd person.

I began typing away, though I wasn't sure why. It was pretty clear that I was in a dream at this point - a lucid dream, actually. Since I was aware of my dreaming state, it would be classified by lucid by a scientist. I thought for a minute, and then I released a wicked snarl.

If a young adult, irresponsible college student could have anything they wanted that lasted a short but amazing period of time, what would they want?

Well, I guess you'll have to wait until the next chapter to find out.