It’s 3:40 AM, and I’m furiously typing in an attempt to write about this dream before I forget it. I’m not exactly sure why, as nobody reads this blog, and even if they did, they wouldn’t be that interested in this dream, but whatever. It’s rare that I dream, and even rarer that I remember it, so here we go.
I’m hanging around with my lawschool “friends” at some type of airport/mall combo. It’s post lawschool, and we’re all on to bigger and better things. I have friends in quotes because these aren’t exactly the group of people I’d consider my friends. More like the people I was forced to be friendly with to keep the status quo.
Anyway, the majority of them are off to do something, while I have to fly back to Newark to go to a wedding. While in Newark, I’m going to have to attend this lecture run by some company at Seton Hall. The person I’m walking through the mall/airport with is complaining about the lecture, saying that it’s not really a good use of our state funded resources. I start getting into a rant about that’s how our government works now. The companies get sweetheart deals to produce goods, and in return they get set up with these fat gigs at schools where they put on mediocre seminars. Everything is “efficiently” run, but there is no quality product. She agrees, and suggests that I expose it all in an article. I guess I’m a writer or something.
I apparently have a meal plan ala Rutgers, and awkwardly inquire to see if she’s eaten already. She has, so instead, I start stopping at each free food tray in the mall. Ever have free fruit at a buffet? It’s always defined by the fact that the cantaloupe and honeydew are always sliced in such a way as to still be able to puzzle back together the entire ball. As in, yes, it’s sliced per se, but it might as well just be whole b/c the slices aren’t spread out and thus stick together. This has always bothered me because it’s very hard to get the exact amount of fruit I desire without getting stuck with more pieces. I think it says something about my personality that I just skip trying to eat this food in public b/c of such concerns. But this time, I’m diving in with both hands to get all this fruit.
As we’re walking through this mall, I’m becoming more enraged by the governmental abuses. I’ve decided I’m going to push my boss to let me write this op. ed. Piece. Then, we finally get to my office, which is a pizza place inside the mall. Joe is there, and is apparently my coworker. He’s writing some fluff piece about something, and discourages me in terms of exposing the fraud at RU (maybe it wasn’t seton hall after all?). But my boss, the editor in the spider man movies (yes, Schillenger from OZ), pushes Joe aside and tells me to run with the story. I can’t figure out why he’s so excited, since our paper is school run, and thus will be cutting off the hand that feeds us. He doesn’t care though, and offers me all the free pizza I need to get the story done.
As I go to write the article, I pull up a stool next to the already cooked pizzas. They are all on display and under lights, like at a pizza place that has multiple varieties (wow, that shouldn’t be a word that I spell so poorly as to make “word” unable to find the correct spelling) of pies in the mall. But, all the pizza looks the same. They are the pies that RU used to have for takeout w/ your meal plan on Wednesday nights. It was a pretty sweet deal for people like me, who didn’t want to eat in the dining hall. I used to cut class (it was stats for pysch majors…a nice little loophole of a class where a stats minor like me could ace w/o ever having to attend) and get a pie to bring back to the dorm. Maybe that’s an indication on how successful I thought RU was run. I mean, the very fact that I could get into such a class and literally have a 100% average without EVER going should say something.
Anyway, the pizza was really good in the dream. It was a little overcooked, but in the good way. The crust was thin and crunchy, and the sauce was very tasty. The cheese didn’t melt into the pizza, but that was ok.
Obviously, 90% of this dream is based on the fact that Joe and I were talking about this fabulous looking pizza he’s had in New Haven Connecticut called “the white clam pie”. I’d link the pictures, but it’s 4 am, and I’m not looking for them. It looks really really good though. I don’t know about all the political aspects of this dream though. Or the fact that there were a lot of law school people in it that I wouldn’t exactly call my best friends.
Oh well, this was dream.
Ugh, blogspot seems down. So, I’m going back to bed and will post this tomm, but I swear, it’s 4 am right now.
