The Dream Factory: Nosferatu Aces History 101

... and John I Tzimiskes defeated Boris I or II ?

It was one of those dreams where you have not studied for the test; time has passed and you have frittered it away, and now it is time to pay the piper.

I used to waste a lot of time in the library and art galleries. Knowledge and Art were an aphrodisiac to me when I was at University, but then, come to think of it, what was not? Did not even the morning alarm have erotic overtones at that age? My superstitions all dealt with lovers and friends; stepping on a crack in the sidewalk never once made me think of my dear mother's aching back, but rather an omen of a dark eyed beauty soon to turn the corner and walk by me.

Well, so time was gone and the test was here. It was History, and the prof wore a pale pink sweater. He came wandering through the rows of desks, and looked at me and smirked, taking my precious time to remark that it must be awfully difficult to do the final when one has skipped most of the classes.
(Actually, I started skipping class in my dreams 50 years ago, and am still doing so!)

He had a nasty sense of retribution, and after the initial shame had come and gone, I decided that I have finally had enough of these educated boors, who are so tedious that they drive us from their lectures, then have the gall to crow over our discomfiture.

I rose up.
I was a bit taller than I am. I was thin... sort of unhydrated, you know: my fingers were thin and wrinkled and I crooked a finger at him and demanded he approached.

He tried to resist, but I drew the facts and dates of the wars of Byzantium and Bulgaria from his frightened face; the data coiled like serpents of smoke, straightened and feathered like mare's tails, and I drew it from his open mouth: full knowledge of antiquity!!

I finished, threw down my No.2 pencil and left his body collapsed upon the floor. The other students gaped in awe.

--