I had a dream last night, while dozing on the couch in between study sessions, that I quit the Ph.D. program in a huff. Erik was in the middle of our doctoral academic gym — apparently the 11th-floor office wasn’t big enough, so they moved us into a gym, where we could sit against the wall with our laptops — explaining to me in his gentle Erik way that there was a problem. On the application to get in, we had to find two influential articles to submit. On the form explaining how to do that, we were asked not to select any reading that we was assigned as part of a class. My second selection violated that rule, hence the problem.
Not understanding at application time why we were selecting these texts in the first place, and knowing we hadn’t yet done anything with them, I said breezily that I could find another quickly. Here is a Godot excerpt:
Dream Me: I can get you something else.
Dream Erik: Well, no.
Dream Me: Why?
Dream Erik: It is too late.
Dream Me: Too late?
Dream Erik: Yes.
Dream Me: I can get you something else.
Dream Erik: Well, no.
It devolved from there, until I stormed out of the gym and started packing my locker up. The chick in the locker next to mine tried to talk me down, but there was no going back. I started looking for a job after I slammed my locker shut for the final time.
I’m sure this was heavily influenced by Matt getting a job, angst over what will be a challenging finish to September, and the eternal self-doubt about why I’m putting my family through financial hell to do this at all. Probably some high school reunion-missing worries as well. It felt real, even as all the faulty dream logic falls away.
Nothing a good night of flying can’t cure tomorrow.
