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Last night I had a dream that lasted all night long, and, because I sleep with the radio on, this story influenced the dream heavily. You see, I went to NIU from the fall of 1976 through December of 1977.
Somehow in my dream, I was back at NIU as an adult. I'd been given a single apartment on the first floor in a very busy dormitory building. I went off to class, and found myself very comfortable with the curriculum, and looking forward to doing well.
After the first day of classes I went back to my apartment, only to find that there were several older women and their suitcases milling around my small living room. I got a bit upset and threw them all out, then headed out to find a resident advisor to figure out who let them in and make sure it didn't happen again.
Of course, I got waylaid and dragged into a cultural event taking place in the lobby -- a ballet of sorts, where they kept dragging people from the audience up on stage and into the dance. Lucky me, I got chosen.
A prima ballerina and her partner were leading the whole thing, and somehow we ended up dancing together in a very elaborate collaboration (shades of Tim Burton), with the whole corps de ballet behind us, when suddenly a cell phone went off. The prima ballerina held up a hand, everybody stopped, and she hauled a cell phone out from underneath her tutu.
While she chattered away in French with whomever was on the line, the male dancer gave me a quizzical look. I winked at him, and he made a silly face back at me.
The prima ballerina snapped the phone shut and then announced there'd been a shooting and the whole building was locked down, and directed that we should go back to our rooms and lock ourselves in.
I headed back to my apartment, only to find a Polish maid dragging an Electrolux vacuum around the place and a bunch more old ladies and their suitcases in my living room.
I threw up my hands in disgust and asked what they were doing in my apartment. One of the ladies explained that, since I'd registered late, I got the apartment usually assigned to visiting professors. "Young lady, they've put you in CANADA," she said.
"Get out! Get out! Get out!" I said.
Then I woke up.
(And no, this was not a catnip-induced dream.)