Fear the Crab

I was back at the U of Puget Sound, in the basement of the Student Union Building. I was in some office, for reasons which I do not know, and I was actually not supposed to be there. I was sneaking into this office as a favor to someone else, who required a paper or file from the back rooms. I felt highly paranoid as I conducted my business, but I was able to leave without being stopped.

As I left the building, a professor came up to me and said I needed to come with him to the Fiscal Office. The reason was because he had forgotten to tell them that I was now living in a special house-dorm with a few of my friends, and we needed to correct it if I wanted to remain there. As we were walking to the office, I noticed that the professor was accompanied by a few other faculty members, and I came to realize that they were all sycophants and hung around him merely to leech off his fame. I could overhear their whispers, and they said amongst themselves that I was the teacher’s pet, though I had no recollection of even taking that professor’s classes.

On the way to the office, I received a phone call from Jumi. We engaged in idle talk, and then she made mention that she was still working at the sheriff’s department. That conversation seemed to twist the dream into a “daydream” within the dream, because I was then thinking about a fictional time when I worked at a television station, helping their broadcasts by positioning lights, and I even began to think about the fictional time that I had to apply make-up to these actors and actresses.

My dream returned to “normal,” and we made it to the fiscal office, which turned out to be a mock-up of the Customer Service Counter at DFS. The line was long because the person working the counter was slow and did not do things in a timely manner. I realized that after we had all approached the counter, we would have another wait for the fiscal office cashier’s window, and I began to worry that I wouldn’t have time to get my next class. Yet I couldn’t leave, because I needed the professor’s help in telling the office where I was living and why I was living there (I think he had to vouch for me and sign some papers). I remember thinking that maybe if I at least made it past the CR counter, I could skip out and go to my next class. A foolish thought, but it was the last one I had before I woke up.