“The question brought to my attention last week after our discussion last week was this. What is the true meaning of dreams? Is there a true meaning? A real meaning? Is there a right answer? A correct answer for all dreams?”
I stared at my professor and felt my entire body completely tense. He had asked my question, but I honestly hoped he would not ask for my answer. My opinion. The reason I had asked in an email was because I felt like the whole idea of a philosophy class was completely over my head and totally beyond anything I could or would ever understand. I had only taken this particular class because everyone had raved about Professor Sherman.
Everyone had talked about how he made you think outside the box and outside your comfort zone. I didn’t think I was very good at either one. But that was part of the reason why I was here. The other part of the reason was his looks. I knew I shouldn’t take a college class based on the looks of my professor, but I couldn’t contain my interest in an intelligent and good-looking professor.
But when his eyes met mine, I quickly looked down at my desk. I knew I would have to work harder to earn a passing grade. My future depended on making passing grades in all of my classes, not just ones for my major. The good news was that I knew what his extracurricular weaknesses were.