My dreams, at least the ones I remember, arrive in the early morning, rattle around for a second or two, then exit leaving no trace. This morning’s dream lingered. It did more than linger; it clamored for attention. A set of serious men in grey suits were interviewing me for a job. They asked what school I attended before transferring to UCLA.
I was flooded with memories of my time there, yet I simply could not recall the name of that school. It was a prestigious school, with a name once as familiar to me as my own. As I failed again and again to capture that elusive name, my distress increased. Finally, I just gave up, thinking that my three years at UCLA had to satisfy the interviewers.
The moment I woke up, I knew immediately that I had attended Otero Junior College for a year. However, the memories I was recalling while dreaming were vivid memories of an experience I never experienced in a school I never attended. Nevertheless, I felt there was validity in the experience.
If there were anything more to that dream than simple reverberations from my recent reading then I leave it to my subconscious to sort, while I go clean the bathroom.