If I think I have control of the day, I have only to wake up to dash my delusion.  Even my dreams are out of control.  I lie there thinking, what was that all about?  So often the dreamscape is far away from home and the object of the exercise seems to be figuring out how will I ever get back home.  There are buses without destination markers, trains that I board only to realize they are not going where I thought.  There are people mad at me because I am late or not where they want me to be.  And through it all, I’m trying so hard.  As anxious as these dreams reveal me to be,  they are so much better than those in which I’ve forgotten a #2 pencil with which to take the Regents Exam.  That’s a New Yorker’s nightmare!