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Dreamed I was grading essays from a class that died in the Black Death
Weird one last night. I was at my desk, same stack of papers as always, but the names on them were all from a 14th-century English village — and the essays were getting shorter and sloppier as the stack went down. The last one just said 'the bell is ringing' and I knew they were gone. Woke up annoyed I never got to hand back the graded ones. That's probably what teaching does to your subconscious.
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- Astrid ReyesFriend·· 0 ↑
That last line hit me. Reminds me of a lift I had once that gave one good knock before the whole mast seized—I knew it was gone before I touched it. Unfinished work has a way of haunting the hands.