Freud would say...

I just woke from the weirdest dream.

I was sitting a French exam, and no more than ten minutes in, I decide with some urgency to go outside and take a call from my mother. She seemed upset, and proceeded to warn me of the perils of Jersey (Yes, the small comparatively sunny island in the Channel, not New Jersey with its semi-naked frolicking Guidos and Guidettes. Had it been the latter I could have quite understood her concern). The conversation got a bit heated, and despite her copious warnings I remained adamant I was still going....it was a graduation ceremony nonetheless!

So to the exam I returned, slightly frustrated at wasting so much time, only to sit down and realise that now there was a stack of papers, on my desk. Not just papers but an assortment of what can only be termed ‘things’. I proceeded to search for my answer sheet under the clutter. It couldn't be found. I raised my hand for help, and was told to start again. I didn't like their ‘advice’ so I decided to keep looking. The answer sheet just wasn't there, in fact now the question paper wasn't there. I signalled for help again, and was brought an Engineering paper (These dream invigilators are pretty incompetent you see). Taking matters into my own hands I decided to ask the surrounding students, all of whom had finished, for their question sheet. Success! Well of sorts...because I now realised all I had to write on was the inside of cereal boxes, and all I could think was: Is this allowed? Will I be marked down? Why am I sitting this paper, I don’t study French, and why on earth is there a band on the stage in an exam hall (Everyone else seems to be enjoying it, but it is quite distracting. Then again, the commotion of examiners and fellow pupils surrounding my desk to watch me scrawl my answers, was equally frustrating.)

Sometime between the disruption of the singing and the hypervigilence of the exam hall I woke up, and was left wondering,

What does it all mean?