School starts September 6, but summer's already done with the coming of the first anxiety dream, a prelude to this morning's meeting at Oly. Today is a "LID day," redundant like "ATM machine," a Learning Improvement Day. So, last night, I dreamed I was teaching--in Elma, where I used to live--and it was the first day of school, which started at eight. Half past seven, and I'm staring at the closet, trying to match a shirt with slacks and a tie. Nothing goes. Pink Dockers and a pink striped shirt? Green khakis and a navy oxford? Jeans and a red polo? My mom and sister are yelling at me, claiming that I'm purposefully wasting time because I "like to be late," and I'm screaming back, "What do you mean? I hate to be late!"
The strangest part comes when I'm trying to take off a long-sleeved shirt, but remove the polo--yes, polo--underneath it instead, as if by magic. I start throwing clothes around, frantic as the time draws near. Thankfully, I awake before having to arrive late to my first class.
Like an egg on a skillet, summer's over easy.