I dramatically threw my sheets aside. “Sh*t!” My eyes sprung open like a ventriloquist dummy.
It was a mild nightmare so to speak, and I have had far worse ones in my entire lifetime. Nonetheless, it woke me up as if someone had doused me with a bucket of ice. Surely, if I had dreams like this all the time, I would never have any trouble getting out of bed.
In the dream, I had a sweeping realization that I forgot to attend this Math class the entire term. Which only meant one thing: FDA (failure due to absences). I could not afford to incur such a disgrace since I am already set to graduate this coming October.
As if to mock me all the more, my brain found it funny to remain in a temporary state of amnesia. It wasn’t until about 10 torturous seconds later that I realized that the subject was not a part of my curriculum. In those 10 seconds, I had already done the following: calculated how many weeks it has been since May and if I had indeed incurred 5 absences already; wondered if I can use my “unlimited cuts” privilege as an excuse; sifted my photographic memory for my EAF; and weighed how much of my pride I was willing to give up if push comes to shove, I had to grovel to my vice dean.
I nearly cried with relief. Or mostly because of all that unnecessary mental stress I had to put myself through at 4 am on a Saturday morning.