Second post: Dreamscape

The invention of this weeks post is just an old fashion dream.  Usually, I quickly forget my dreams.   Oh well...let me tell the dream before I forget.

For some reason,  I was in some type of bicycle race or competition with a group of other males.  Most appeared to be white but it didn't seem important.  My bike seemed new but it was inadequate due to construction or due to my inexperience operating it.  I recall that the handle bars continued to switch position as I struggled to go faster.

As I reflect, I'm not sure it was a race.  But, the struggle of all the riders to get to the location was complicated by the conditions and the terrain.  It was a rainy day in a region that had seen plenty of recent rain as the roads were muddy and soil soaked hillsides.  The terrain appeared to be mostly up hill so the struggle was continuous.

Now, five days later, my memory in continuous failure...I will try and complete the blog:

As I approached the hill where some shelter sat atop and all the riders approached and climbed, I too made my attempt up the muddy slope.  In recalling the dream, I don't know that I paid much attention to the others but I did realize that I was the last one on the muddy slope.  As I gained ground by continuous effort, I continued to slide.  Nothing overly strenuous, it was just a sense of frustration.  As I neared the shelter, I recall wanting help from those that were inside but I was muddy and they were all clean and dared not assist me.  I got over the ledge. However, I don't recall changing or anyone reacting to my entrance.  But, I was present.

The vague strangeness of the dream and the academic course that I am taking at the Graduate level lead me to reflect on the meaning of the dream and this blog writing assignment.
For me, the muddy hill is the unrehearsed, uncharted experience that I have had to accomplish the academic accomplishments thus far in my life as the first person in my family to leave the Borough of Woodbine New Jersey and graduate from college.  It has not always been pretty.  The shelter and those in changed clothes are those that have also accomplished this academic pursuit but persist as ones who rather not dwell in the journey but relish in the accomplishment.  I am just not sure where I fit. Thus, I have either failed to change my clothes or don't want to change.  Which begs the question:  Why then am I here? And, what attire do I want to fashion?  In this program and hopefully with experience of this class and others, I will fashion my voice...