A. I was in a group and we were going through a book of essays, poems, and stories to decide which one to speak to the class about. I remember saying that I hated the sections that referenced the four questions the book was apparently themed around (roughly): 1) how to sense the meaning (some word that began with an "e" was in the place of the word "meaning", even though I knew that it had the same definition... the words "erotic" and "erogenous" come to mind, but these do not make much sense!) of the passage 2) what is an essay 3) what is a poem 4) what is a narrative. Even though I really didn't like all the parts of the book that directly tried to answer these questions, I dog-eared them anyway.
B. There was one long chapter inside the book by someone named Michel Goren. The binding was fancy and the cover was a deep burgundy leather; it was odd to find a book that appeared to be its own separate entity inside another book. I felt bad because the chapter looked like a good read, but I had spent my time browsing through other sections of the book before I found it, and I knew there wouldn't be time to read it. Other groups were presenting and I still had no idea what we were going to talk about. I just kept skimming, not really getting a deep understanding of any one passage.
C. Someone found an insert about a project that a group did last year in response to the book. It appeared like a post-it note, but felt like a piece of old hard candy. It was yellow. Upon touching the substance, it melted, and the person who found it got out a small plastic container for it to liquify into. The teacher announced that it was alright to throw it in the trash in the container, but if it were in a plastic spoon, it would turn the whole trash hot in the sun, and all the trash would melt. This did not make sense to me, since the container was made of plastic as well, but I nodded my head. My friend took the post-it note-like insert to look at, and realized that it was actually her and I who had written it! It was about a ballet dance we did in response to a story about a chocolate factory. All of a sudden, there was a flash back to this dance. Two other girls were singing about defeating the evil owners of the chocolate factory while dancing, but I was only dancing, since I did not like my singing voice. Too bad, I don't remember the tune. After our performance, people were asking if it looked like Wonka's chocolate factory inside. (If they were watching, wouldn't they have known what it looked like?) We said that it was the offices of the factory, not the locations where the chocolate was being made, so it was gray, and the floor and ceiling were both made of steel.
D. I wrote my entire blog post. It was some response to Fox's Father's Day Poem: subtitle. I don't remember the exact title, but I remember going back and forth between underlining and italicizing the title, trying to decide which was proper. My blog post was two paragraphs, around 530 words, and I published it around 9:30AM. I don't remember what kind of passage I was responding to... did I meet a fox that recited me a poem? Or was it a poem I found in the book?
So... a writing collection, a burgundy leather-bound novel, a yellow note, a steel room, ballet dancing, a poem written by a fox... what do all these symbolize? Do they have no symbolism at all? In Native American culture that thrived in the Adirondacks centuries ago, the contents of my dream would may have seemed portent. A poem given to me by a sneaky, cunning animal such as a fox might have been the a sign of an omen. Perhaps there is some prophetic element to my dream last night that will reveal itself in time, although I would never have known that clues of its happening were buried in my dream, since I have no personal dream interpreter to tell me so. Already, my blog post has been written after 9:30AM, and it is not about a poem or a passage I read in a book. Does this mean that my dream has not come true? Well, it could not have come true, since I was likely dreaming it during the hour of 9:30AM! (I woke up around 10AM). Yet, this fact is prophetic in its own way... Perhaps something was happening while I was sleeping that I missed. Nonetheless, the sense of urgency that resulted from waking up later and posting my blog post later than I would have liked, even though I thought I had already written the whole thing about a Father's Day poem, will remain with me for the rest of the day!
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