I have a recurring dream about Medical college . In it, I’m walking to the anatomy class on the way to my first class at the start of the school year. Suddenly it occurs to me that I don’t have my schedule memorized, and I’m not sure which classes I’m taking, or where exactly I’m supposed to be going. As I walk up the steps to the class , I realize I don’t have my box key, and in fact, I can’t remember what my box number is. I’m certain that everyone I know has gifted me , but I can’t get them. I get more flustered and annoyed by the minute. I head back to Middle Path, racking my brains and asking myself, “How many more years until I graduate? …Wait, didn’t I graduate already?? How old AM I?” Then I wake up. Experience is food for the brain. And five years at Medicine is a rich meal. And I think the reason I keep having the dream is because its central image is a metaphor for a good part of life: that is, not knowing where you’re going or what you’re doing.  It’s surprising how hard