hudebnik | Dream journal

I was traveling to some kind of professional conference, stayed at a motel just short of it, and for some reason decided to walk the last segment of the trip. Which turned out to be a good idea: the road became increasingly pot-holed and pitted, and sloped more and more steeply down, until I was picking my foot-holds carefully (pot-holes are good for that) to make sure I didn't slide down the mountain. The cars behind me gave up altogether.

Eventually I got to the conference and started giving my talk, in what appeared to be an art classroom. It didn't go well: people asked inane, irrelevant questions, and I hadn't given this talk in years so I wasn't as familiar with the subject matter as I thought I was.