An old professor who I never liked literally throws a book at me and tells me to look it up. I'm pissed off at him, so I leave the book on the ground and go tell him he's full of shit. Meanwhile the thing I needed to learn has not been learned.

I've been suggesting to myself that I lucid dream every night. In the absence of actually getting lucid, though, I try to go back to sleep to see how else the dream might turn out. So this morning I thought, I know, I'll tell the prof something so witty, so elegant, that he will recognize the error of his ways and he will show me what part of that book I'm supposed to read. But each time I fell asleep, I couldn't get lucid.

Later I realized instead of blaming the prof (who after all is just some spllntered part of my own psyche), I could just read the damn book!