I had returned to college to start all over again in a four-year program. Even though I had already been through law school, I wanted to go through college again. I had picked a college in northwestern Texas. I was now at the college, where I had already started classes. The tuition was a bit expensive -- about $5,000 per semester -- but I thought I could handle it. I had stopped practicing law for a while, and going to college now would give me time to figure out what I was going to do next while learning something a the same time.
I had already started reading a story about Ulysses. I had pictures in my mind of Ulysses and his travels. Having visions in my mind again felt good. I seemed to be developing a story of my own which would stay with me.
I was in one of my classrooms, where a man was talking in front of the class. I realized the college was not large, and apparently the college was also short on money, because the man in front of the class said the college was trying to collect money to buy band instruments so a band could be formed. I thought the man mentioned something about a tuba, and I formed a picture of a large tuba in my mind. I concluded the college must be poor indeed if it couldn't even afford band instruments.
The man was trying to convince the students in the room to pledge money for the band instruments. When other students raised their hands to pledge money, I realized I also needed to raise my hand. Only now did I realize I was lying under a cover. Some other people were also under covers, but most people were sitting up straight in their seats. I had to throw off my cover to raise my hand. I only intended to pledge the minimum amount -- about $5.
I realized I should probably be sitting up in my seat, instead of under the cover. I particularly noticed an elderly woman who was sitting erect in her seat.
I was reading a book which had been written by Bill Clinton, who had also attended this college. Because Clinton had graduated from here, the college strongly backed him. I concluded the college might be better than I had anticipated -- on top of everything, I would also learn much about Clinton and his early upbringing.
Clinton had originally written the interesting book (about 300 pages) in Spanish. I had only started reading today, and I had already read over half the book.
Bill Clinton was visiting the college. I was part of his entourage and apparently I had started working with him. I had come to the college with him, but I was unsure whether I would be returning to Washington D.C. with him. I had already become well acquainted with him and his family. He spoke Spanish, and I thought he and I should start speaking Spanish together as much as possible. I thought I should also probably start speaking Spanish with Dallas attorney friend Wheat since Wheat and I spent so much time together. Only laziness kept me from speaking Spanish with him.
I was reading my book on the second floor of a white frame building when I realized that Clinton and his people were leaving, and that I needed to hurry downstairs. I rushed downstairs and as soon as I stepped outside, I noticed somecows and bulls in the grass. Someone had cut up some raw steaks and had been feeding the steaks to the cattle. One bull munched on the steaks for a while, then walked away, leaving a pile of steaks lying there. Some little tiny bulls which almost looked like puppies walked up to the steaks and began feeding on them.
I began looking for my black shoes, which I thought were in some grass outside here, but I couldn't seem to locate them. I thought I also had a black bicycle parked nearby, but I couldn't find the bicycle either.
I could see that the cars were already pulling out. I knew I had come here with Clinton in his car -- but now he was leaving without me. As the cars passed by, I noticed president Dwight Eisenhower driving one big black car. Eisenhower was tall and thin and looked about 60 years old.
I never did see Clinton -- it looked as if he had already left me behind. Finally, however, I managed to jump into a car. The driver was a fellow who had also been in Clinton's entourage when we had first arrived. I mentioned that it looked as if Clinton had left without us, but the fellow seemed unconcerned. I asked the fellow if he would later be able to pick up my black bicycle, or if he couldn't come back, to pick it up now. He backed up to the bicycle, but he was acting nasty about it, and it looked as if I were going to have to get out and pick up the bicycle.
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