I don’t think I dream in Chicago…

or at least if I do, not memorably. I know that it’s highly unlikely for someone to not dream at all. I know that the REM sleep was there. But I have absolutely no recollection of what I dreamt about last night.

Although…to be fair, my sleep last night was brief (just a few hours), not to mention interrupted by the fact that I had to get up to finish studying for today’s psych test. I would have taken the test earlier this week, but for some reason, I have had a particularly difficult time concentrating on the material. I have been having a difficult time concentrating and focusing on most things this week actually….I had been trying to get through chapters 17 and 18 for the past 4 days, even though when focused, it only takes me 2 days (on average) to properly get through two chapters. And these weren’t even long chapters…

This morning however, I think I might have found the key…I was sitting on Stephanie’s couch dragging my sleepy ass through chapter 18 this morning. When I wasn’t dozing off in between sentences, I was looking anxiously around the room…for suitable distractions probably. I settled on the boxes for seasons 1 & 2 of Heroes sitting in a bookshelf across from me. Naturally, my thoughts snapped to ZQ, and by association to Spock. I tried to return to the chapter, but all attempts to resist this particular distraction were futile. Laugh if you will, but that’s when I had a most novel idea….well, novel in the sense that I’m not usually this resourceful at 8 in the morning.

I turned back to the chapter, but instead of narrating the paragraph with my own internal voice as per usual, I suddenly found myself sitting face to face with a young Leonard Nimoy, who was telling me all about simple and superordinate neural circuitry. He engrossed me with his unfaltering knowledge of delay and trace conditioning, Hebbian synapses, neural habituation and long-term potential as key components of memory formation and learning. He rattled off to me string after string of research finding, and I encouraged it, further engaging conversation with an intermittent, “…fascinating.” I rephrased section headers into questions which he would then answer, rather matter-of-factly, in a page or two. He walked me through diagrams and enlightened me on the activity of amnestic agents in clinically tested mice, monkeys and fruit flies. You wouldn’t believe it, but before I knew it we had come to the chapter summary.

I knew he was an accomplished science officer, but I didn’t realize just how much more credible (not to mention, sexy) he could make my textbook sound. What I had deemed the most bland set of chapters in the course thus far, suddenly took on new relevance. I retained more and finished the chapter in a fraction of the time it would have taken me otherwise. However, despite this tiny personal triumph, I still didn’t do quite as well on the test as I had hoped. Considering how unmotivated and off-track I had been in my studying prior to this morning, I really ought to appreciate the score that I did manage. Perhaps he’ll agree to help me study for next week’s final?


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