where i will get my MFA.

Firstly, I am awake earlier than 6 am. That is not crazy, because I'm doing the Baha'i Fast, which means only eating and drinking before the sunrises and after the sunsets. Also, sleep wasn't happening because of the INSANE bluster outside and the CRAZY COOL imagery I had in this dream:

I was going to check out a new university I planned to attend. Really stoked on it, I entered nervously ecstatic, but that changed quickly.
The walls were pristine white and tiled floors shiny with a recent buffing. No students were in sight and it was silent. The ceilings were high, with classical detailing...which I'll admit was beautiful, but not the familiar grunge of an art school I was expecting.

I wanted to find the art department and there were no signs anywhere. The campus felt vast. I went into one of the classrooms as a group of students were taking their seats. The professor was seated at a desk in the front of the room. It was clearly a geology class--the professor was lanky with a curly poof of hair and he made nervous gestures paired with erratic eye movements.
I stood in line with a few others waiting to speak with him as he jotted things down on a pile of papers on his desk.
Feeling urgency, I skipped a couple people in line, leaned in towards him, and said "Excuse me! Where is the art department?" with an attitude that has only come from my mouth in real life with my parents, when i'm grumpy.
"Oh. young lady. i have no idea! does this school even have an art department???" he replied genuinely unsure.
"uh. yeah?"
Then he went on to continue writing things on papers.

I left, feeling frustrated and rejected. Looking around I could tell it would take a lot to get along with the students around me. A lot. I wasn't their type, and they weren't mine. They were all too clean---is what I remember thinking.

So I continued searching down the white halls passing by blank after blank poster board, and went outside. My mom was with me, in a wheelchair? she was also someone else...She suggested to walk through the garden and see if it was on the other side.
I did, and found it.
But.
There were three different gate entries to get into the art complex and I didn't know how to get into any of them. They each required a different puzzle or special maneuver. Finally after a few tries, I got into the metal door by pushing at a particular angle.
Immediately upon walking in I knew this was the place for me. People were wearing lose sweaters and each had their own mess of a hairdo and loose walk that communicated they could care less. I walked up to the main building which was a medieval bell tower. A man was standing there. I introduced myself. He was friendly, and the dean of the department. Students around were smiling.
I walked through a hall and came to door, passed through it, and saw an entire building facade made with play-doh. It was the coolest. thing. ever.

Oh, and this school. I remember having the distinct understanding it was in Australia...even though upon waking I realize that's not a place i've considered going for a long time.


Later I overheard Barack Obama explaining to a few men how important the oval office is. How he must do everything in there, including get his daily exercise, eat his picnics, and make his decisions. A very important place, he repeated, then turned to enter and close the door behind him.

p.s. this oatmeal is terrible.
note to self: must find better morning food.