When I'm stressed, I have dreams. They're not bad and they're not good but they're usually confusing and often tiring.
Last night I dreamt that I was trying to get to class, but better and more meaningful experiences kept presenting themselves. I fought it for a while, but eventually gave up on class and found myself listening to my minstrels play at a bookstore. That's got to be more important than the class I'm supposed to be attending this morning, which I dread.
In another dream, one of my professors told me that it was really important that I go to Iceland. That it would do good things for my work.
I'm jealous of dream-me. She gets all the good opportunities.