Dream of: 25 March 2000 "The Aeneid"

I couldn't believe it – I was once again a student at Grant Junior High School. After all these years, I had returned to Portsmouth, and as old as I was, I had again begun taking a class at Grant in a room full of young teenagers.

This was my first day of class and I was still trying to orient myself. The class was Latin, and on my desk was a copy of the Latin textbook which was being used. I flipped through the book, and was happy to see that it was filled with stories written in Latin, and not stuffed with grammar. I was much more interested in reading Latin stories than in learning Latin grammar. I was also happy to see one of the stories was entitled The Aeneid. I hadn't read Virgil's The Aeneid in a while, and knew I would enjoy reviewing it.

My pleasure was suddenly interrupted when I heard the teacher bark out my name. She was a grumpy dowdy woman, in her mid fifties, slouched over her desk at the front of the room. She had asked me a question about today's lesson. I felt embarrassed when I explained that this was my first day and that I hadn't prepared the lesson. She begrudgingly accepted my excuse and warned me to be prepared in the future.

As she continued asking other people questions, I realized I would need to always have my lessons prepared, because the teacher obviously called on students at random every day to answer questions. I wasn't fond of that kind of class, but I still intended to continue.

As the class proceeded, without my being aware of it, the teacher had changed to a slender bearded man (probably in his early 30s) who was walking back and forth in front of the room, teaching the lesson. As I listened to him, I began to realize that he and I seemed to have a lot in common. He seemed like the unconventional type. His hair was fairly long. My hair was also quite long, longer than any other male's in the class, falling to my shoulders.

Since the teacher and I were fairly close in age, I wondered if we might possibly become friends. He was obviously a man of some intelligence, and surely he didn't know many people in Portsmouth with whom he could communicate. I wondered how he had been able to stand living in Portsmouth at all. But obviously he had managed to do so and still retain a certain sophistication. I would have to approach him after class.

But by the time the class ended, the teacher was no longer a man. Again without my being aware of the change, the teacher had become a woman, but this time a very attractive black-haired creature (probably in her early 30s). She looked right at me and our eyes locked together for several seconds. She was definitely someone whom I would like to meet. But I was unsure I would have the courage to approach her. This would take some mustering of courage.

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