The Dreamlife of Devils

It is probably proof of my pessimistic nature that my tests in dreams never end well. "Not well" is actually a veritable litotes here; "horrible" and "big fat F" might do these grades more justice. So my strange and nerve-wracking dream about the Hamlet test ended...er...very badly:

It is 8th period, that time for English class again. Crick hands each of us a sheet of paper typed in that typewriter font he favors. As previously discussed, we then head off to the computer lab for some marathon typing. But as we sit down and prepare to log on, we realize there aren't enough computers. In fact, there's only 4 for the entire class of 20 or so. "No problem," exclaims Crick in his sadistically cheerful cadence, "We'll take it orally!"

He proceeds to explain that the we will make our presentations from a 10 ft high, 2 in wide window ledge, which had mysteriously and quite conveniently appeared in the computer lab overnight. So here combined my three greatest fears: extemp speaking, heights, and English analysis. (Ha! Perhaps there is a method to the madness.)

When it comes to my turn, I climb onto the ledge with great difficulty. How I managed to climb up a vertical flat wall is beyond my comprehension. But exhausted by this physical exercise, my brain is not ready to analyze the passage that followed and I stand mouth agape, holding onto that tiny ledge for dear life. Even when I do struggle to say something, my vocal cords are frozen in a constant tremor--no audible sound escapes.

Sneering with disdain at my befuddlement, Crick says, "Fine, you obviously don't know anything. But I'll give you another question. What is one person who influenced you the most?" I continue to stand frozen. He then started throwing me a torrent of college app questions: "Evaluate one book you have read outside of class. What would you bring to this college campus? Tell us something about yourself? What do you think of the New York Times--"

New York Times! Finally something I can answer. I'll just go on about my beloved Manohla "Man" Dargis and A.O. "Tony" Scott. But as I open my mouth to speak, I instead start falling. Down. down. d.o.w.n.

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The real test went quite all right, though my concept of "all right" seems to have deteriated with my gross overjudgment of my performance on the Medieval Euro test. I shall cross my fingers and hope the best.