I must have gone to college because I was in a dormitory with two rows of beds. I picked the fourth one in. To my surprise, my boxes were full of old sheets and blankets from childhood I’d forgotten about and other things I didn’t need. I wondered how I’d gotten it all there and why.
I must have gone out, but not to class. I wondered why I’d returned to college when I hadn’t planned to go to classes. When I returned, I couldn’t get in because I didn’t have a key. After I did get in, I saw all the beds, some occupied, were made up with my old sheets and blankets. I couldn’t find my bed or keys, which added to my stress. I gave an enraged speech, then went around taking off all the sheets.
Somehow it happened again. I called the college administrator’s office in front of them. Of course he wasn’t in. I yelled at them about being ill, but they didn’t care. I took back the sheets and blankets again, but this time I looked at each in turn and asked who wanted to have their face broken. If they didn’t choose, I would. Part of me wanted to. Part of me didn’t. I called the administrator’s office again to avoid a greater confrontation. The girls looked at me sullenly and unrepentantly, I thought. They were going to force to me to choose, then see what I would or could do.