I had a dream this morning. As I've said before, it's pretty uncommon for me to remember my dreams. I don't think I've remembered one since the last one. Okay, THAT made sense. Since the last one I blogged about, back in freaking I dunno, lemme look it up. November. Maybe it's because I don't normally go to bed until I'm actually tired. Or maybe it's because my definition of "tired" is "if I don't go to bed NAO Pattie's gonna find me passed out at my computer or on the crapper. Again." Maybe I need to look at that. And maybe I'm rambling.

The dream. That's right. For whatever reason I dreamed I was back at Bluffton. Trigger and Hoch were there, even though it was my senior year. Found my room and started talking to the new roomies and the people popping in and out, none of whom I recognized. The thing I found remarkable was how easily I was talking to everybody, that's never been my strong suit. So why this dream now? Some possibilities:

* I thoroughly enjoyed my time at Bluffton. Who wouldn't want to dream about it?

* As of February 15, my student loans were paid in full. OH GOD YES. Now I can think about Bluffton without also thinking "Jeez, I'm STILL paying them?"

* My mom's getting ready to redo some rooms at her house, which means I'm going to be cleaning my old room out (and probably cleaning out stuff here, since I'm sure I'll find stuff there I want to bring here). Preparation for a waking trip down memory lane?

* Long nights of pushing a dust mop and cleaning crappers allow for copious amounts of introspection, and occasionally the topic turns to where my life has been -- and why -- and where I want it to go. One of the things I've realized is that I need to readjust how much it matters what certain people think, say and do. Let it reflect on what kind of person they are, then let it go. Easier said than done, maybe, but hey. Maybe a reaction to introspection?

* I've also realized that I really want to reconnect with Jon, one of my friends from Bluffton and one of the few I've spoken to since. (His wedding was where I met Pattie.) He's far from perfect, sure, but show me someone who isn't.

* Speaking of weddings, Rachael's is in a few weeks. The last time I was at a non-family wedding where I was the one who first knew the couple was, in fact, back when I was at Bluffton. Maybe that one's a stretch, but hey, my major was chemistry, not dream analysis.

Got an interview tomorrow, and it's the first time I've needed a college transcript. Too short of notice to get one mailed, so I went and picked it up.

I graduated from Bluffton College (now Bluffton University...whatever) back in 2000. For all that time, for all that's changed in my life, for all that's changed in the world -- it still felt like going home. Thinking on it on the way home, I decided it was the difference between growing up and growing older that made BC special -- most of my life I've just done the latter. Bluffton was where I did most of my growing up.

It wasn't like going back in time, and it wasn't like time had stood still -- it was like the time had never elapsed, it was like I was still where I belonged. I double-checked the campus map, but I didn't really need to, the registrar's office was still in College Hall. I walked the long way there -- it's a relatively small campus, travel is done on foot or by bike -- just remembering how beautiful the place was. Even without the memories it's beautiful -- a very clean campus, lots of wooded areas even right next to buildings. And the squirrels. I'd never forgotten how many there were -- jokes abounded anout Marbeck cafeteria workers using squirrel meat in the food -- but I had forgotten just how close you could get to them. Not go-up-and-pet-them close, but they have no qualms about crossing the sidewalk just a few feet in front of you.

The insides of the building were, of course, all the same -- at least the ones I went through. At 8:15 am most people were in classes, didn't really want to disturb anybody. Even though I don't know anybody there anymore...strike that. I still know quite a bit of the faculty and staff (whether they remember me may be another story), I just don't know any of the students. Even so, I still got a friendly hello from anyone I passed. Went through Bren-Dell, my dorm all four years, and still felt like I could knock on any door in the place and be welcome. I might have, too, had any of them been open, but at that time anyone not in a class is still asleep.

As I wandered around the campus, all sorts of memories came back to me, all good memories. Rose-tinted glasses, absence makes the heart grow fonder, yada yada yada. Briefly thought about catalogging them here, but at that point they stop being memories so much as a rote exercise in recollection, then just a list of names and events. I prefer they remain memories, even if they fade with time.

In a way it's a little strange I'm so fond of the place, as I haven't kept in touch with anyone who went to school with me. Someone I once knew (who has no other bearing to this story) once told me that life is a passing parade -- once people pass, they normally never enter your life again. While he had said it in reference to the losers in life, I've found it to be applicable to the best as well as the worst. You're friends with them while they're here, then hope they remember you as fondly as you remember them.

I could have stayed on campus all day, but they wouldn't have liked that much at work, so I said my "see you later"s to the place -- as I have no doubts about being there again sometime -- took one last drive around the back of the campus, and was on my way.

The trip back saw me bringing up memories that were memories when I attended there, memories I can talk about without them losing their magic, memories etched upon my soul. Memories of my father, how he used to come home full of metal splinters and smelling like grease from the factory that eventually took his life. Memories of holding my cousin Trina when she was little and telling her how much I love her -- she's still with us, but now that she's 18 I can't get away with that.

And also more memories of Bluffton on the trip home, this time more the relogious aspect of attending a Mennonite college. I wasn't Mennonite then and I'm not now -- I don't think I'd classify myself as really having a denomination -- but that was the environment in which my faith grew up along with me. I said the Lord's Prayer on the way home -- something I haven't done in a long time -- and paused a few times, thinking about the temptations I give in to and the trespasses I had yet to forgive. Including some etched in as deeply as the best of my memories, which I tend to forget more than forgive. I'll not bring them up here -- if I can't forgive them, I suppose they're better left forgotten.

All in all, a very peaceful and happy morning for me. I only wish coming home felt like going home.