i had that nightmare yet again... the recurring nightmare, modified in some respects, about coming to school completely unprepared... here, i thought i was going to class to have some prep for a final, only to realize that it WAS the final. the professor was passing out those little blue books, and i could see that students were seating themselves apart from each other. i reluctantly took my book and found my seat... ostensibly, it was a calculus exam; i could hear the professor mention to the class something about the final problem. i took a quick glance at that problem: #29 or something, and heard from a distance about how a lengthy proof was required... even though it was supposed to be on calculus, the initial questions had more to do with history or religion. the last problem that i eventually woke up in the middle of had to do with a special class of ritualists known as the sword makers or sword builders (i even saw a made up japanese name for them, something like "ogori no ..."). the question was asking why, among all ritualists, they were forgiven for such things as tardiness and other violations, even when precision was required in some ceremonies. i was slowly writing my response in sloppy, panicked handwriting, something about how these "sword makers" were so vital to various ceremonies and rites and so specialized, that they were afforded some liberties that other ceremonial professionals were not. in the middle of my response, supposedly in these untampered blue books, i noticed that my friend had put a big colorful sticker on the bottom of one of the pages. in desperation, i spent some time scratching it out, and then putting some sort of tape over it, trying to decide which looked more "professional." in the end, i scratched it out, and wrote a lame "sorry" next to it, before proceeding to the next page.
i remember seeing my roommates calmly talking about something completely unrelated (apparently, in this final, people could still talk once they were done). i asked them if they were done. they both replied, "of course." i was incredulous. it still seemed like the beginning of the final period, and i was writing my hand off, and it seemed impossible, just from the sheer volume of writing that was required, that anyone would finish that early. but they were done. in fact, it seemed that most people were done. everyone was calmly going about their business as though this- all of it- were a piece of cake... and i felt alone, struggling, desperate... as i have felt at many instances throughout my life.
i rolled over in my sleep and awoke, eyes still closed, to the darkness. i remember that i had to struggle, and stop myself from continuing my dream's train of thought, to write, to come up with the ending of that particular sentence... there was this thing i had to do, wrapped up in fear... and outside of it, in this empty darkness, was a sort of relaxed oblivion... which, actually, was the true remembering. of course, i "evaporated" from the one to the other, taking me here.
[maybe: this is like death.]
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