Title: Walt Whitman, "Song Of the Open Road."
Vivid dreams all night long, so restless sleep --- my mind kept too busy by bizarre imagery and unlikely situations. The only part I remember is a weird sort of love triangle between me, the Ex and a totally fictional black woman. The Ex, although still my ex in the dream, was jealous of the attention I was showing the other woman. Intricate power plays ensued in the dream, tiring my thoughts for the waking.
We got our exams back in Exceptional Children. Mr. B said that out of our class of 100 or so students, there was one 98, a couple of 96s, quite a few 94s, and most of the rest in the high 80s. But because he thought three of the questions had been ambiguously worded, he was going to give everyone the full two points of credit for all three. So the person with the 98 would get 104, if you got a 94 you got 100, and so on. I'm not quite sure how that works, since clearly if you got a 98, you only missed one of them in the first place, but whatever.
I got the 98. Or rather, 104. So no worries here, at least.