Just a warning, the following post will likely make very little sense.
So the dream theme continues but this time with a twist: instead of water sports like in the last fun dream, this time I had a dream in which I was ice skating. The premise of the dream was that I had to write a paper about something — I’m not sure what the topic was but if dream student Rebekah is anything like real student Rebekah then it probably had something to do with access to food, patenting seeds, maybe a little something about the construction of a pipeline and the resulting uptick in the spread of HIV along the trucking route — anyway, after the paper was written I then had to, with a partner, act out the topic and analysis of said topic on ice skates in front of the whole class which, as it turned out, was quite large. I am not a good ice skater and, unlike my dream sailing prowess I have spoken of before, I am also not a good dream ice skater. I spent the majority of my dream fretting over falling down and having my partner, equally as shitty in the skating department, slice my fingers off with his blade. Rewind.
In the beginning of the dream I found myself sitting at a restaurant with a bunch of other people mere hours before the performance of the paper that I had yet to write. I don’t know what kind of food we were eating, but I do know that I drank one of those mini old school bottles of Coke. I know this because, upon asking for, and reviewing, the bill, I discovered that all the drinks were missing. Trying to be a responsible dream patron, I went to the server and asked him about the pricing of the different sodas. Were they all $1.50? I wondered. Apparently not. The server then launched into a whole diatribe about soda pricing, quoting for me the prices of all the other drinks in the drink fridge and omitting information about the relevant beverages which, in the end, turned out to all cost $1.50. Sigh. I threw money on the table and rushed off to class…I mean the skating competition…I mean class. When I arrived, I busted out my computer, determined to finish the paper before I took to the ice. Then, all of a sudden, I was at the sea shore! With my computer! What if sand gets into the keys?? People were swimming and having fun. I was stressed out. I decided to take a nap. I walked inside and I was in a house that looked vaguely familiar to me. I went in search of a bed. I looked and looked. Then, finally, I found a room with bed potential. I opened the door. There in the bed was some old dude who I don’t know but who seemed to upset dream me. He awoke when I opened the door. He was wearing ice skates and was trying, ungracefully, to ask me about the state of the paper I was working on. I turned and fled back down the stairs to the sea shore which, oddly enough, was overlooked by a sink that was full of dishes. I started doing the dishes and, in the process, found a bag of spicy mangoes. I snuck some into my pocket.
Then…transformed back to class! Class was cold, because of the skating rink, and I was sitting on a sofa, trying to work on my paper that, at this point, consisted only of an introductory paragraph. Dream Rebekah thought that writing the paper in larger font would make it look longer and therefore closer to completion. Real Rebekah would never do such a thing. I was getting stressed. Getting antsy. Then, the lights dimmed. Everyone looked around. And who comes in? Mavis Staples! She performed a rousing rendition of “Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me Around” much to the pleasure of her brother Malcolm X (who is not her brother in real life, people!), also in attendance. I woke up in the middle of the performance. No encore for me but I did get out of performing that unfinished paper on ice.
franklyrebekah 
a. mazing.
I enjoyed reaading your post