I was trying to read some note that was written on my brothers bedroom wall. It looked like a letter I had written to my friend Becca. It struck me odd that I addressed it to her full name. It was dated August of what looked like 2001, and had (among other things) the big shoe Jim made for sculpture class on the wall with some sort of meaning. I wasn’t able to actually read more than her name, since Cherie kept interrupting me about some other art piece that seemed vaguely familiar.
I woke up when I realized that I had to get to my final meeting with my sculpture professor, and was late.