Congratulations...

The sun-warmed sweet Spring air seduces me. I consider with exuberance the many ways to accomplish nothing, dancing between the options like a kid who can't figure out which candy bar to buy. Suddenly, from deep in the recesses of responsibility which I thought I had shut the door on, a prisoner I hadn't realized existed escapes to cause unrest. That fugitive is a reminder of my last final exam that I have to take tomorrow!

Instantly, anxiety throttles the hope from my life as the totality of the situation crashes over me in 10-foot rogue waves.

I hadn't been to this class all semester,

I don't own the book,

I don't have any notes,

I don't know anyone in the class,

I don't anyone who has taken the class,

I am screwed.

Why was I so stupid? How could I skip every class and not make sure I got the notes from some nerd? I'm an irresponsible dumbass. What waste of money! I'm gonna fail, and my GPA's gonna sink even further, I'll never get a job, plus, I'll have to retake this crappy class and go an extra semester...

Then I wake up. I struggle to remember where I am, and more importantly, did I really graduate? Gradually, the memory of accepting my diploma cover springs to mind, and I gratefully can go back to sleep.

This time of year is redolent of new life, hope springing eternally, and the like. I attended three graduation ceremonies in two weeks, each one painfully reminding me how awkward it is to hear of optimism rooted in lies.

My guy Ariel at BitterSweetLife posted recently about his experience taking finals. His writing resonanted so powerfully within me that it dislodged rotten memories from my tour of the University of Illinois.

I had this nightmare periodically during the year after I graduated. It is the worst dream I've ever had. I hope all the graduates out there are prepared for it, they don't mention panicked nights when you leave school.