I had just shuffled into a classroom already filling up with students. Most seats – with their little desks – had already been taken. I saw a few seats in the back and contemplated sitting in one of those; but finally I focused on a seat close to the front and I headed for it. I seated myself, pulled out a piece of paper and began working. Everyone was busily reading their textbooks, waiting for the professor to arrive.

I, however, instead of reading, set about drawing a map of the United States on my paper. I drew so quickly that in almost no time I had drawn the entire western half of the United States. The lines seemed perfect; even the lines of states whose borders were straight seemed to have been drawn with a ruler, although I had been drawing freehand. I had colored in certain sections of states in different colors. I had used a bright red for the northwest and was sill in the process of using a rusty color to color in the states northeast of Texas. I stylized my coloring; in a basically square state just above Texas I left a tiny space uncolored in each corner. I thought the professor would be impressed with this stylization when he saw it. The stylization was spectacular because when I would tilt the page, almost blinding light would mysteriously shine out from the four corners. The paper wasn't transparent, so the light wasn't coming from underneath. And there was no light source in the room from which the light was reflecting. From wherever the light came, it was quite spectacular.

It almost looked as if Texas had been left off the map, as if Mexico encompassed Texas. But then I discerned the southern border of Texas. I thought I would probably use blue to color Texas and the area immediately around Texas; the blue should contrast well with the red.

I realized my method of studying (drawing the map) was quite different from the other students' method of studying (reading their books). A particularly studious group, they were assiduously pouring over their textbooks. But my technique had merit. I was more inclined to actually do something as I studied, and not simply passively read. I might not learn much by making the map, but at least I would learn more than the other students. But I began to wonder whether I should actually start reading some. I now remembered this was a graduate class in American history. These weren't just ordinary college students but harder working graduate students. I was going to have to work much harder if I wanted to compete with them. Maybe I should read some.

The professor, a blond-haired man (not more than 40 years old), had finally shown up late. He was in the back of the room trying to set up a film projector, apparently to show us a film. Meanwhile I was having difficulty with my seat which seemed to slant to one side. Finally, I noticed the seat in front of me was unoccupied, so I moved to it. My movement seemed to disturb some of the other students, but it couldn't' be helped.

***

I was sitting on the back of some kind of vehicle, apparently a pickup truck, looking out toward the back, as the truck moved down the road. It seemed most of the students from the class were still with me in the truck; they were sitting behind me and I couldn't see them. Only one fellow was sitting next to me on my right. He was a handsome young man with blond hair (about 20 years old).

As the truck proceeded down the road, I could see the area we were leaving. I tried to identify where we were and finally I realized we were in Columbus, Ohio, traveling south on High Street about two kilometers south of The Ohio State University. I first recognized the area by a large red brick building which I remembered from when I had attended Ohio State almost 25 years earlier. Students obviously lived in the building and would have to walk all the way from there to the university. I used to have to walk a long distance when I had gone to college there. It didn't seem so bad now to think of doing so.

We turned off High Street and headed down some other streets when suddenly the incongruity of everything made me realize I was dreaming; I became lucid. I also realized something more: I wasn't simply dreaming, but was actually in Columbus, in the truck, while I was dreaming. Somehow, in my dream state, I had been transported to Columbus and was actually going through the streets on the back of the pickup truck, still dreaming. My actually being there in the truck, even though I was dreaming, was the only explanation, because everything I saw was so clear and vivid, not at all like a dream with a dream's tenebrous recesses and shadows in the background. I could see all around me in all directions and view things with the most acute detail. It was thoroughly enjoyable, this state of dreaming and actually being in another place. I was loving every minute of it.

As we continued along and the driver picked up speed, I slowly noticed the fellow next to me and I had begun holding each others hands to help us support ourselves. As the awareness of holding his hands came to me, I started to pull my hands away, thinking my holding another man's hands was highly inappropriate. But then I reflected I was doing nothing wrong. The man's hands felt quite soft, and it occurred to me that this might actually be a step forward for me. I had gone through a struggle to give up masturbation. It rather seemed that now instead of holding a penis in my hand, I was holding something worthwhile, another man's hand.

I was also not bothered when I realized this fellow was gay. I certainly wasn't gay and we were doing nothing sexual. Besides, I felt as if the fellow needed some comfort. I spoke to him, and he quickly informed me he had been having a difficult time with his father because he was gay. I was somewhat of a father figure for him. I was clearly old enough to be his father. He just needed someone to try to understand him. I thought I might even allow him to live with me for a while. I was unsure how his living with me would work out, but it was a possibility.

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