I dreamed last night that it was fall already and the first day of my journalism class at Rocky Mountain College. It was a typical dream fiasco: I had no class roster, no syllabus, no notes and didn't even know what room we were meeting in. And the room was oddly divided by a bank of shelves so that I could see only half the class at a time.
But the dream wasn't one of panic or frustration. Instead, I felt excited and ready to go and looking forward to winging my way without notes or plan. And here it is, still May. Maybe my subconscious is in better shape than I thought.