I started thinking about life. And then I started examining myself. I started wondering about how judgmental I am. I don't think I'm judgmental. But then again, I actually trust my first impressions of people. Probably more than is healthy. Or maybe it is healthy. I mean, it's not like I'm wrong about the people. I met Ingrid for two minutes, and I had figured out that she was going to be a private person and that she'd probably spend more time with familiar friends than her not so familiar roommates. I was right about her. And then waaay back when I met the people in the 68th ward. I didn't really think anything different about them, except for being fonder of them. Gaah. This train of thought was leading to a beat-up-self session. I quickly decided to try and get to know people before I decided what sort of people they were, and then I cleared my head again in an attempt to fall asleep.
Then I wasn't really thinking about anything. Occasionally, the random thought that my-left-leg-is-throbbing
And then I started thinking again. I don't really like thinking so much. But I think about everything, and over-think most of that. I starting thinking about chemistry class. And then I thought... Hm. Tomorrow there's going to be a pop quiz. Then I chuckled to myself. The point of pop quizzes is that the student won't ever know when they are. And there was no reason to think there was going to be one. But then I remembered that I had successfully predicted the last few. I just laughed at myself then, telling myself that there probably wouldn't be a quiz.
Then I drifted into that strange semi-sleep again. This time the dream was a little more complicated. And I'm going to tell you about it, because I never remember dreams. Never. So I'm quite excited to have a dream to remember and tell about. Even if it is really strange.
I don't remember any of the details and dialogue, just things I saw and what I was feeling. It was a Sunday, but our usual meeting place for church was, for some reason, unavailable. And it was the 68th ward, I think. And I was sitting on the left side of the room in between Patrice and Clifton... and the ceilings were high, and vaulted, and there was stained glass everywhere.
But it was weird. You could hear next door that there was a different, very loud, very wild congregation. It was some sort of church, and instead of the reverent sacrament meeting sort of setting we were having, they were having some sort of party worship. Rachelle passed me a note, and she wanted to go see what was going on next door. I think Will had been speaking and I was tired of listening to him, and so we got up to go check it out.
We went in. The room was different, but I felt like I had walked into a dirty place. And what was going on was quite obviously scandalous, so Rachelle and I left quickly. We went back to our seats, and there was a different speaker (Jackie, I think) that we didn't mind so much listening to. And it was almost normal. Rachel was chattering in squirrel at Hillary, who was just shaking her head confusedly. And then Clifton put a note in my hand. Before I looked at the note, I remember wondering why Clifton would write me a note in sacrament meeting, especially when he was sitting right next to me.
I'm rather surprised with the detail that I remember the physical qualities of this note. It might as well have been real. I remember what it felt like, looked like... It was thin, and it looked like it had been torn out of the middle of a wide ruled notebook page. The top right corner had been torn so thinly that it had started to curl in on itself. It was about four inches wide and three inches tall. And, as I do when I'm awake, I recognized the handwriting on it immediately. It wasn't Clifton's. Clifton's was taller and skinnier, more angular, but still had curves and loops. This was Ryan's handwriting, seven whole lines of it. The top few lines of this note were written larger than the bottom few lines. I remember that the first word was my name in all caps. I was confused for a moment, until I remembered that Ryan was in the 68th ward too. I looked around to find him, and he was a few rows behind me to my right, and the girl he was sitting next to was talking to him. (Was no one in this dream paying attention to the speaker?) I looked back at the note, and I was just about to start reading past my name when --
Jackie made a loud noise in her sleep and I was suddenly awake. And then she started mumbling about something, which I presumed was differential equations, or something I hadn't studied yet. I was not very happy to have been woken up. I really wanted to know what my subconscious had put on that note. My conscious thought generated a few things that might have been on it. And those things made me stifle a laugh, lest I wake Jackie. But as to what the note in the dream said, I suppose that bit of information is lost forever. And that made a little sad.
So I thought about something else. I started thinking about the 68th ward, and that made me sad again. So I thought a little more, and tried to think uplifting thoughts. I made a little goal that I wanted to the sort of person that is always uplifting everyone. And I was trying to think about how I could do that, but I couldn't think in the slightest. Gaah, thought I. It would be really nice if I could sleep. It would be even better if it was a deep sleep and none of this horrible semi-sleep business I was having. I'd wake up after a little of that and feel even less rested than before.
Through the blinds I could see that the sun was starting to come up. I laid in bed staring at the ceiling, trudging through my scattered thoughts like a turtle wading in a field of peanut butter. My alarm went off at six. I shut it off before it had a chance to say much. But Jackie leapt up out of bed. "That was my alarm. Sorry," I said. Jackie said thanks and climbed back in bed.
I was awake, so I pulled my computer out from under my pillow and turned it on. I finished the extra credit assignment that was due in chemistry that day, which thankfully, took little actual brain power. Then Jackie's alarm went off a few times. She finally got up. I just kind of laid there. Do I want to get up? Dare I try and get some more sleep? Hm. Well, I was wide awake, and exhausted. And I'd been lying here for over nine hours, and had only gotten a measly four hours of sleep. That sucked. The odds of actually falling asleep were definitely not in my favor. So I got up. And I dejectedly walked downstairs.
Jackie looked at me from her perch on the couch. I don't remember what exactly she said, but it was something along the lines, of "Jenna, you look like death." Yeah, well, I feel like death. I grabbed my linear algebra book, some crackers, and some cheese. Then I sat on the couch and read that textbook, munching as I went. It was slow progress. I didn't need to read the book, but I hadn't quite grasped the concepts from yesterday's lecture. And it would be nice if I could do well in this class. So I trudged through it, my mind still behaving as a herd of turtles wading through a field of peanut butter. I did get through it, and I thought I understood it well enough, so I went back upstairs to my room.
Looking in the mirror, I discovered that I really did look like death. I sighed. I had some time to waste before class started. I could fix this. I got out my straightening iron and fixed my hair. Now that didn't look like death. I continued through my morning routine, paying extra special attention to everything, and eventually, I went back in front of the mirror and inspected myself. I didn't look like death. And if I had been smiling, I might have looked beautiful. So I tried to smile. But it was fake. So I just left it at that. In an attempt to make myself feel silly and thus evoke a twinge of a smile, I put on my pink snowflake pajama pants... and I feel a little better, but I didn't smile. Dang.
I went to chemistry, and half-slept through the first half of class. At any rate, I wasn't paying attention. But I woke up when I heard the word, "quiz." I blinked the sleep out of my eyes as my professor started handing out the pop quiz. Blearily, I remembered my late night prediction... no, it was more a declaration to myself, that there would be a quiz in chemistry today. That kind of disturbed me. I completed the quiz, and thankfully, since I'm a chemistry genius, the lack of sleep last night and the lack of attention during the lecture didn't really impact my performance. After class I was feeling really... empty. I did my linear algebra homework again, and this time I knew what I was doing since I had read the textbook this morning during breakfast.
At some point during all this, Michael showed up. "Hey! Do you know where the writing lab is?" I shook my head. And then Michael blinked. "Hey! I know you! How are you?"
I answered that I was okay. I mean, besides the no sleep thing, the day had gone rather... perfect. Michael left after discovering that I was doing linear algebra and declaring that I was nuts for taking it during the spring. And I continued in my homework. I went to class. And I tried to pay attention. But when I have no sleep, interesting things happen. Including horrible pain. I hurt soooo bad. My back was angrily stabbing the back of my head. So my headache got worse and worse and worse. And my head started feeling heavier and heavier and heavier. And I was fighting to urge to think about anything, because thinking in this condition inevitably leads to depression. After class, I walked over to the Benson building to do a quick chemistry lab. And I ran into Michael again.
He did that wink, point, and grin move when he saw me. I smiled weakly.
"Oh, you look so sad!" Well, I had been feeling sad and tired and generally not so good all day. But instead of telling him that, I told him, "Oh, I just didn't have the greatest rest last night, and I have a headache. So I'm going home to get an Advil, and then I'll be okay." And he didn't really say anything, so I kept walking. But then he sighed and said, "I don't have anything to do tonight." I sympathized, saying, "Me neither." I welcomed the thought of having nothing to do.
"You know it's Friday night, right?" Yes, of course I did. Every single female soul at BYU keeps Friday nights open for dates.
"Yeah."
Then he grinned. "Oh, don't worry, I'll figure out something for us to do. See ya later."
I laughed and he left. And continued on my journey to the chemistry lab, which I really would have enjoyed had it not been for my exhaustion. I mean, we burned stuff. I love burning stuff. That's the whole point of taking chemistry.
After that, I walked home. And finally my poor little brain made the belated connect. Wait a sec. Did Michael just ask me on a date? Hm. I had to think about this... perhaps. I think so. But he hadn't actually asked me anything. It was more like a declaration that we were going to do something tonight. Perhaps he was just being friendly? Or maybe not. I really didn't know. Jackie would know. Jackie always knows.
So I went home. And I walked in the door, and Jackie told me that I looked depressed. Dang it. Well, I collapsed on the couch, and curled up with my blanket and Teddy Grahams. I munched for a while, and then I said, "I think Michael asked me on a date."
Jackie was immediately animated. The thing about my roommates is, they get so excited when someone gets asked on a date, and it's instantly a big deal... whatever. "You have to tell me!"
I told. And Jackie decided that he had asked me on a date. Okay. So apparently, Michael was planning on doing something tonight. I should cheer myself up, but that seemed like an impossible task. But I had a box of Teddy Grahams. So I ate Teddy Grahams until I was happy. (Something about pulverizing little cinnamony teddies with your molars just evokes instant joy.)
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