Professor Gregory House, M.D.

December 20, 2010

I’m in the middle of a flair, I think. Comes and goes. Last night and this morning were rough.

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I had a dream. In my dream Dr. House was my professor. I do not think that I was in class, exactly, but I was certainly under the supervision of a T.A. at the time. This T.A. was on a power trip, I suppose, and told me I was not allowed to go to the bathroom (when does this happen in real life? Not often.). So, I ran to Dr. House and told him how his T.A. was being horribly insensitive towards my condition, and to get him to behave properly. Dr. House seemed somewhat sardonically amused by the situation and told off the T.A., at which point I went off to the bathroom, where they had curtains instead of stall doors. Then something like the apocalypse occurred, we all started running out of the bathrooms, and I woke up.

My subconscious really likes to tell people off. I would be righteously indignant a lot more often in real life if I could think of something cleverly demeaning to say on the spot to make the person understand how much worse of a human being they are than I, but realistically I usually only think of what I would have said an hour or so later.

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