I don't remember too much about this dream. I think it starts with me taking a final. I was writing an in-class paper (the best kind) and my desk reference was an edition of Vanity Fair magazine. I am sharing a desk with a gorgeous boy, who I am assuming is older than me. We are in a Theatre MfA program somewhere (maybe even CSUP), and I ask him if this is his second or third year. He says it's his first and I'm excited because that means he and I will be together next year. The paper is supposed to be about Dizzy Gillespie... something about his improvisational style or something. I finish the paper and then hand it in to either Matt or Jensen (?) and then I decide to complain. This test has been far too easy. This is supposed to be an MfA program and we are writing papers based upon articles in Vanity Fair (it is a good magazine, but not that good). I revolt. The teacher isn't there... there is no teacher to revolt against. I just start riffing on the paper and the class and the educational system and it becomes this performance piece I am doing as I hand in my paper that I realize (as I'm speaking) takes the form of a Gillespie improv. And I have this bizarre moment of superb genius where I am riffing on my own education in the style of Gillespie in front of thirty people.
I guess I am thinking about the PhD again.
I think I will call Josh and see what he thinks about the PhD/MfA question. He probably has an opinion.