Journal, Diary, & Blogging / It all seemed so real...

...But it was just a dream. Kind of a weird one.

I was still in college (California Institute of the Arts amalgamated with every other school I’ve ever attended) and my dorm room had a workshop/printing press in it. How come? I dunno, I guess I was one of those fortunate kids whose parents could afford to get them a print shop for their own studio. I just so happened to have those resources at my disposal.

Anyway, on one of the machines, (a folder/diecutter/drill) was another student’s work. It caught the eye of my roommate (nobody I know, just some Hawaiian cat), and he felt obliged to handle it. He was like, “WWWWOOOWWW! Come take a look at this!” So I did, and it was impressive. it was a handsized diorama of a whole city, made in paper. There were pop ups, tiny paper figures and all kinds of intricate little cut outs that made it look like something you could play with. And this was a PROFESSIONAL looking high end print job. And there were a whole bunch of them stacked on top of one another, folded. I was impressed that this could be done by a student in fine art/shop class. I thought, “Wow. I wonder if I could do something like this?”

Just then, a knock came at our door. It startled us, and we dropped the whole stack of papers on the floor and it scattered everywhere. My roommate just took off. Guess he figured, “If no one’s around, no one’ll get blamed.” But I figured, “Take some responsibility. Try and put these little worlds of which you know nothing about back together again.” So that’s what I tried to do, pick them all up. After all, that knock on the door couldn’t be the same student who made the pices, could it?

But it was. It was a fellow female student of mine (who shall remain nameless), who just so happened to be tiny, Korean, and awfully ticked at me. (ALL this time, I could’ve said to myself, “Wait a minute. Why are other students coming to my room to check on their projects?” To which, I could’ve added, “Because this is where the printing press is and you let everyone use it,” which would’ve seemed like something I would do, and I would no longer question why.) She started yelling at me in Korean and I didn’t understand all that she was saying, but I recognized the word “thief” in her speech, even though I was scurrying to get the pieces back together and made sure that I handed her every adorable little piece. She was still mad, however, and she stomped out of the room. I was afraid that she might complain to someone.

Cut to later on that evening, while a party was being held in my dorm room, (where did all the equipment go?) sure enough, a security guard approaches me and asks to talk to me in the next room. The next room was empty as we walked in. (Damn, this was a spacious dorm.) He said that there was somebody on campus who accused me of being a thief. I said, “Well of course, somebody is gonna say that!” Then he segued a bit, and said, “You know, we looked in your trunk, and we uncovered a whole lot of pornographic materials.” Then I was bewildered, because I don’t collect anything of the sort. I watch it on the web, like everybody else. So I said to him, “Wait a minute. What trunk, where, and what did you find?” He just smirked deviously, and the dream ended there.

The end.

Interesting how you can believe in something so outlandish; up until the point you regain consciousness.

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