Caley Moehring
American Li 246
10/11/12
Seminar Paper 2
A Farewell to Dreams
The fall had come overnight. What was, merely a day ago, a sunny green paradise, had
become gray and brown. I sat on my couch, covered with multiple blankets and a cat warming
my feet. Perhaps I could close the open window. But I didn’t. Didn’t want to move the cat. Call
me a sucker, but whenever this particular cat graced me with its presence, I felt honored.
It wasn’t simply the act of showing affection. Though that could have been enough.
Zombie was not a cuddly individual. Having been spared the castration so commonly practiced
on animals, he was still a man. And men, as we all know, do not require cuddles. It was more the
fact he knew I could use a friend. I was under a deadline, one I was not all together sure I was
going to make. I wasn’t a writer, hell, I wasn’t even a student anymore. I was an all-important
cog in the political system known as higher education. I was to be the mouth piece of the
students. But not really. I was just the newest recruit into a system of mind games and smiling
faced lies.
To say I was distracted would be a gross understatement. My wine was just out of arms
reach. My legs were now sore from not moving them as to not disturb the cat. I couldn’t stay
focused. Just what did I have to say? I needed more wine. That was for sure. But then he walked
in.
Harold Morison was nothing short of a vision. Crisp black shirt and vest and gray slacks,
he was exactly what I wanted to see. He smiled at me while refilling my glass.
“And how goes the homework?”
“Pointless and dragging.”
“Do you want something to eat?”
“Maybe just some rice. I’m not even that hungry.”
He was a good man. Far better than I really deserved. Parts of me still resented him
though. His belief that things would work out. His optimism. In this age of nothingness, the idea
that one person, one voice was any more special than another was foolish. There was no light at
the end of the tunnel. Not for me. Not for most of the people I knew. We would toil in fruitless
fields for the majority of our live. And tonight, we would climb into bed, drained from the day,
and fall into sleep, almost unaware of the things we were missing out on.
The cold had dampened overnight. I awoke to it pressing against the window glass. With
little regard to my personal appearance, I picked up the coffee he had made for me in a travel
mug. I didn’t deserve him. Beads of water sat on the windshield of the car. I made the short drive
up I-5 and pulled into the already full parking lot. North Seattle Community College looked
uninviting in the gray mist. Slabs of concrete several stories tall, work fences in place, insuring
more gloom to come. My head ached from the wine. I attempted fix one problem with another
and drank my coffee as I walked.
Students filled in around me. Voices seemed muted on this cool morning. Everyone
seemed to be moving in the same direction, not thinking of the future. I walked into the office,
ready again to be the leader.
“Good Morning, Sophia!”
“Morning.”
“Do you have that sheet done for this afternoon? I emailed you about it last night… what
about the form for Thursday?...Did you set up that meting?”
I waited for the on slot to end, then smiled politely.
“Of course. Let me just set my bag down.”
I looked to my coffee cup and wondered why I hadn’t filled it with something stronger.