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An Old Teacher, Stargazing, and Something About Happiness

My 9th grade history teacher P. Sanch. called my cell phone while I was at a garage that was transformed into a 50's diner like atmosphere. A bunch of old friends were around and when I called him back, he started telling me that I had won a sweepstakes. I won something really stupid as my first prize, and started getting angry that he had done this with his life. Then he told me that I had won a brand new car and a lifetime supply of lubricant. When the car rolled in moments later, it was a beatup, dirty, brown pick up truck with tubs a lubricant in the trunk thrown wildly about. Then he told me about a third prize and I hung up.

Next, a few people were in a nicer car and we driving along a circular route. We could see what was below us: a magical array of electric grids connected by giant Lego pieces. The stars were very bright above us. I could distinctly see orion, and cancer, and ursa minor (at least what I thought they looked like. I know orion was correct). And then as we went to the other half of the sky, I saw some constellations that confused me. One looked incredibly intricate, and upon further notice of the 50+ stars governing it, it looked like a circuit board. The stars were all beautiful.

Next, back at the garage, I was walking outside and noticed a car unable to continue forward, so they did a k-turn in minimal space that they had. Then I saw the same thing happen again. At this point I realized something profound. It had to do with how experiences and happiness are not related. Or something similar to that. Because I like to keep track of queries, I needed a place to document it so I wouldn't forget. I took out my iPhone and went to voice record. I couldn't exactly remember what I had said. That sucked. I kept trying. Then I woke up and tried to continue remembering the phrasing. I could not.

A Beach, a Naked Race, a Sandwich, and Baked Beans

Cleaning out the room with Jonathan. He had lots of statues of things I had a pen that was in the shape of a fish. Our futon was out of the room and it looked very clean without the rug. I wasn't packing so my desk was a shitshow. Brandon came in at some point. Then we all went down to the beach. Two or three girls showed up and we ran around and there was a tree. Maybe oak. That's probably unimportant.

Next dream

Racing around a square seemingly hotel arrangement with logan and two others. Pads which increased your speed. One corner of hotel had a cafe and the other had an exercise area with stationary bikes. There was also and experimental exercise room which had a window, was 10x4 feet and had cabinets and a single stationary bike it. There may have been a door to a back room.

Pants fall down so I'm bare ass but I dont care because I must win. I learn it is very hard to pull up sweatpants and underwear while trying to go fast. Lots of people around.

The area slowly transforms to an airport type place. There are sandwiches that are very tasty. There's a make your own salad bar with a sign like the sign in dining hall. There's a make your own sandwich bar. I was holding that very good turkey lettuce and tomato on baguette and was wondering if I could make it as well. Then went further and found where my whole family was sitting. Many of them were going to this place accross the path to get what I assumed was pizza. This turned out to be wrong because the waiter came back to where we were sitting with a tray that had a burger with spiced fries for father, a hotdog covered in baked beans with side of fries which looked so good I wanted to find it on the menu (barbecue hot dog with brisket and baked beans with fries) I thought about getting it but I had just had a sandwich so I didn't. The waiter creepily gave whatever my 8 year old cousin ordered with a "here you go little girl" then he put his hand on his hip and looked up toward my right and said "and little girl would you like anything?" he was asking my eldest brother. He has a beard, short hair and is a guy. He said something like "no you little bitch" and then the waiter left.

Then we all left and now were by the ocean in cape cod, it seemed. The family was pretty far ahead and me an Justin were talking about how we both loved baked beans. Except he called them something else. Maybe barbecued beans?

Poop.

People like me because I am a part of that small percentage that makes jokes and laughs about poop.

First Lucid Dream

Realized i was dreaming from I think someone being like "yo dude!!! You are lucid dreaming cooool!" Then I decided to test it out and fly....I felt weird inside but I don't think I was flying. Flying without wings or such just simply makes nophysical sense and therefore I couldn't even pretend that it made sense. I probably was on the floor of my dreamworld with my arms stretched out, but the room turned light blue. Lasted like 2 dream seconds the. I was like this is stupid.

Then I went to a party and kept checking my watch to make sure
I wouldn't be late for class. Sat down to play poker. Lost in first hand because we both had something good, but his was slightly better. I was like "ohhh darn". Then went further through the scene (it was dark an park esque)
down lots of steps, couldn't see them at all with glasses , could see them without but they were dark. (had to squint) made it do a glass door. Just on other side was a hallway. Immediately on left was a door that Many people would go into but lock just after because they were doing something bad. Down hall was a big room with some friends of mine (Dom) playing poker. I never went to check if he was winning.

I went into door on left and saw a line of like 6girls in the hall the door opened to waiting to go left around the corner (occasianally looking around it to see if the guys were done.) it was apparently a bathroom full of only stalls. The guys sometimes used them but were mainly a a table in the big room that the hall opened up to in this bathroom. It was behind a row of shrubs but not so that it was outside. This was all inside. They were talking about whether i had brought the stuff. I had no idea so I asked. They said "the illegal stuff" and then because I was still really condused...i left and went back through the glass door and up some steps and by a pool and found a table. There was a loaf of french bread there. I ate some and then checked my watch to see if i was late for class. I saw a hand by the 12/11 area so I assumed it to be 1155. But that would mean I was late to my 1145 class so I checked again. This time it read 658 ish and I was like oh shit that must mean it is at night and I missed all my classes! Ahh then I decided that I should wake up and find out the real time. It was 1009, I had been asleep for a max of 20 min.

Terrorists, a Lego Flamethrower, and a Horde of Ghosts

Running through forests in Asian country trying to avoid terrorists. Something else I can't remember. Then this happened.
Terrorists were creating new government and were forging fake docs in different language that said that we were legally bound to them or something and someone we knew believed it and went to their side. The rest of us went into the back of this truck and hid. Didn't know what to do and andrew had the idea to build a laser. I saw a lego board in the truck and started building a flame thrower with wires, lights, a lighter that was taken apart so it could be started with heat from the lights and a battery (9v)

Eventually the people found us but I wasn't done with the flame thrower yetand we were stalling with the traitor. We were trying to convince him or her that it was a forgery and that a simple stamp was not enough to prove that it was true. (this may or may not have been in hong kong, I just went to sleep slightly and was told that by some people in the tall buildings bottom floor parking garage that part of the dream took place in) eventually we convinced him and then I turned on the power of the flamethrower (the flame wasn't connected yet) and the led turned on very brightly. I smiled and turned to my side to whoever it was and said " I love electronics" with 5 more minutes I knew I could make it work. Then it went back to that parking garage. Peaches was far away and had just come down from a higher floor and waved. I was with my dad and I was like wtf why did that just happen. Then I saw my mom and went over to her.


Next sleep same night
Then, large room with attached rooms that were spaceship looking. People are put in a sleep state and put here until they act unruly or it's time for them to get up because they are done being experimented on or something. Jonathan and I put ourselves here to beat the ghosts who were in charge so that we could bring everyone back to reality.

There is a 40 ft metal statue of a ring with two other rings inside that make it look like a sphere. Also, the food isn't very good.

The ghosts work in pairs. one holds the victim and the other shoots him or her from the other side. Once it was one of our turns to be set back, the other would take one of the tennis ball shaped ammo and a gun and would try to shoot the ghosts. (maybe it's a bad thing to bring ghosts back to reality...)

I was chosen first and brought to this lounge area. A guy who looked like white goodmans right hand man said to me after I acted hurt to cause a distraction as Jonathan took a tennis ball, "if you are seriously hurt we need send you back right now. Unless you took metrx." before Jonathan had chosen, I had been told to choose the ball that would be used on me. It was a number 9. Jonathan chose a number 72. I later realized that my jumpsuit had a number 9 on it. I wonder if that was a problem.

Reflection

I write this on the journey back from the USC-Notre Dame Coliseum Clash, where I learned what my school means when it says it stresses “family.” The epiphany unraveled as I sat with Notre Dame fans encompassing the area, yelling chants of the Irish even as the rain fell, and even as the team was down 16-13. I cared for the team, for those students I knew in the stands, and strangely for the people cheering with me before worrying about an almost certain sickness from the wet chill. The scene reminded me of a home game, with the student section jauntily proclaiming a coming victory.
At USC, opposing fans fist-bumped me, inappropriately touched me, and even accused me of sweating profusely even though it was forty-degrees, raining, and I lacked anything warmer than the pride of a green Notre Dame t-shirt. The fist-bump was completely unexpected, and the joy it brought me makes me want to return the favor to other rivals at home games. But the others, from my limited experience, are hard to imagine a Notre Dame alumnus or student of performing. First, they—or should I say “we”—seem to know how much physical contact is too much. Yes, we have fun exclaiming that the other team “sucks,” but grabbing someone and pushing them against the wall in a drunken stupor falls below us, especially the grabbing of someone. Next, I believe a Notre Dame graduate or student can tell the difference between sweat and rain.
Nonetheless, these intercollegiate fan-interactions supplied me with the necessary contrast to Notre Dame’s own spirit. The spirit of the stadium did not impress me as much as the physical size of the coliseum, the incredible hats of the band, or fact that someone in full Trojan warrior’s garb rode a pure white horse to cheer up the crowd. Theoretically, USC, with its recent victorious history, should have had more support than the lackluster Irish just as the Los Angeles Lakers draw greater crowds than the ailing Clippers, but I believe that despite the size of the crowd, the roars of The House that Rockne Built defeat those of the Trojans.
I sat with my Dad, high in the stands behind an end zone with hundreds of alumni and students. The chants of “Let’s go Irish!” and “We are N.D.” may have been louder than when sitting in the student section. The Notre Dame family stood against the cheers of the home crowd with our own attack. We fought like Spartans. I hurt my freezing hands high-fiving the elderly couples, upperclassmen, recent graduates, and the like all in the name of family. I felt initiated into a tribe of people who react with such warmth to the blue and gold, that it accepts any person willing to join, willing to scream in name of Notre Dame. Maybe soon, I will advance to the next level and hug a random kinsman after a thrilling victory, as my father did.
Football expands into the student psyche like a mole that suddenly appears on a body. Even though the body’s owner may not want it to be with him, it adds to part of his character. I describe myself. I never associated myself with football, and I still do not, but now I do associate myself with the cheers and thrills of the Irish jig and the mighty Leprechaun.
The same enthusiasm for the university does not translate as well for the classroom experience, though. The sheer size of chemistry, calculus, philosophy, and engineering lectures keeps me from properly paying attention and properly learning. I have developed a newfound appreciation for my high schools largest classes of fifteen, and I hope that Notre Dame can live up to my expectation of smaller classes as the curriculum becomes more specified.
The smaller classes have always kept me in attendance. I do not remember skipping any course for any inane reason in high school because the teacher always knew my name and always respected my ideas, work, and responses. But with a class of 150, I do not feel guilty for sleeping through my 8:30 am class, I do not care if Professor Lappin knows my name, I do not need even someone as distinguished as Professor Robert Audi to appreciate my work. I feel alone in my studies despite so many neighbors sitting next to me.
I have not used the resources available as I should have, and the reason seems to be that those same resources were always available without an appointment and without even traveling outside. I have not used the writing center, I have not gone into office hours, and I have not talked one-on-one with a professor. The closest I have come is emailing my calculus teacher’s assistant about a few difficult problems.
Thankfully, I know multiple people in my dorm who are willing to help with any of my subjects, so the absolute necessity of finding professors in person is avoided. Still, the presence of a mentor to help guide my coursework and my college experience—along with the perks of good recommendations—needs to be something I actively work for.
Upon arriving at Notre Dame, I expected a difficult transition in forming a new set of friends. I have always waited for people to talk to me, instead of speaking first, and I fearfully entered my dorm with a shy look, wondering if someone would mention something about the weather. They did not, but thanks to a commonality in introversion with my roommate, I made my first friend, and by some other means I have found people whom I believe will join me through life past college.
I hope that these friendships do last, and that I have people who know me and can direct me toward my passions. I hope that these people, who I ordered 2:00 am pizzas with, who I handed out candy on Halloween with, and who I half-nakedly ran and swam and was baptized with, will remain as I see them now: family.