Schooled.

Friend tells me about how it’s going with recent breakup. I can draw direct comparisons with one of my own exs. Can’t go into detail when he know who I’m talking about, and she’s basically in the next room.
I had this really vivid dream last night. At one point, I was in school, about to take a test on things I knew nothing about. The teacher threw a student out of the class for no good reason. I was going to use the test to write a note to the teacher about how she was there for us. We were paying her to teach us, while she was acting like we were there for her to earn a paycheck. (It was a concept a wild and provocative high school math teacher named Bruce Allan taught me. Learned a lot from him. Sometimes it was about math.) I never got to take the test. Then I was in a room full of people in some sort of prayer meeting. I went off to a smaller room to the side, and found my old friend Marc. (Marc has sorta been missing for years. An email will pop up from him now and then.) A middle aged black woman with glasses looked in on us, and I motioned toward Marc to let her know I was helping a friend, and that’s why I wasn’t in the meeting. She nodded an approval. Marc needed a few drugs injected into him, so a nurse appeared. Then the nurse went out into the crowded room, and we lost her. She was soon found lying on a couch in the middle of the room. Marc was behind the couch, and the nurse stabbed him in the arm with a syringe. I could see that the needle was shorter when she pulled it out than when it went in. I left out the early stuff about finding a classroom and scheduling.