I had a recurring about doing a history? project for my Concepts in American Fiction prof. It had something to do with translating a list of words from French and ranking them based on frequency of use. It was on the computer and I was lying on my stomach facing the foot of the bed with one other person positioned next to me and someone leaning back on the headboard, legs entangled in hers. I think the person next to me was my coworker and I may have been showing her something on the computer before the dream became about schoolwork.

My prof was standing somewhere close to the bed and telling me about how my assignment was no good and I started working on it again, when E came into the room, got on the bed and entangled her legs in my by sitting leaning on the headboard behind me and made introductions or smalltalk with my prof.

I tried ignoring it, looked through my assignment, and I distinctly remember that on the list there were nonsensical words that I'd crossed out already as having any use at all, and words like cappuccino and verger mixed in.

The prof just told E about how shit I did on this project and she stepped in to defend me, saying how hard I worked on it and how the list of words just didn't make any sense and she was just telling him everything I'd thought and never said, and it completely humiliated me because he could see my inadequacy, my inability to just get this shit done. My having tried so hard, and yet amounting to nothing. My weakness and vulnerability, completely exposed.

Overcome, I covered my face in my hands and woke up crying.