I went to class, Quentin Smith's class, most likely this semseter's course, Philosophy of Language and Time. Class is on Mondays. MLK day is, of course, on a Monday and no classes are in session. In this dream, Quentin hadn't realized it was MLK day and thus showed up for class. Oddly enough, despite all the students where aware of the day off, about half the class showed up, too. There are no days off from philosophy; there are no conventional barriers to philosophy.

What was intensely dream-like was the setting. The class was not held in the usual room, there was no big table around which we sat. There were regular classroom chair-desks, lined up in rows and columns like a normal classroom. However, we were not inside a classroom.

The whole setting was a large and exquisite, old and overgrown garden. It had not been tended to in probably decades, at least. There were some areas that were like patios, with concrete or brick or something to provide a floor. All of this was cracked and the plants were grown over it. There were a lot of huge vines growing everywhere. There were also partial walls here and there, to create little "rooms", some created with only a wall or two, to give a feeling of being in a sort of secluded but alos open area, otheres were created with all four walls and a small doorway, and sometimes even a kind of covering for a roof that still let in some sunlight, and these rooms were more secluded and closed off. There were also different levels, needing a few steps up or down to get to. There were a lot of small trees and shrubs scattered all over, but also enough very large trees to create a ceiling over the whole garden. This filtered the sunlight so that even on the brightest of days the garden would not be bright, but a little dim, a little dark, a little mysterious. And there were parts of the garden that were brighter and some that were quite dark. And because of this lack of sun there were not flowers. It was all green, but so vividly green, so richly green. And it gave off the most intense feeling that it was all so alive. It was thick and moist, all of it, the garden was not dry and starving. Obviously, since it was so overgrown.

It was so overwhelmingly beautiful.

The class itself, the desks and all, was set up in a large open patio. The head of the class, where a board would normally be, was a wall covered with overgrown vines and plants, and moss. Yes, there was lots of moss, too, now I remember. The wall was the edge of a higher level, and up there were several enormous trees. There was a podium, too.

And, god, it was all just so beautiful.

But all of this was part of the "campus" of this "school" in my dream. At some point I left the class area and wandered about. I came to a bathroom. It was quite large, like a normal public restroom. It, too, had not been really tended to in a long time. But it was not overly dirty or gross. Just also overgrown and such. When I went in there, there was a girl, younger than I. At first she looked as though she were dead, but only recent. She was sitting on something like a beanbag, slouching, with her back against the wall. Her eyes were open, and there something in here mouth, about the size of a tennis ball. She had shoulder length blond hair and medium fair skin. She was petite. I asked her twice, "Hey. Are you okay?" Then she came alive, removed what was in her mouth and put it in a bag next to her. She had a couple of bags with her. I don't remember everything she said, but eventually she was asking me for a ride to another part of the campus, I think, that was a little far. I couldn't give her a ride but suggested to her to ask someone else, a specific person, who was headed in that direction.

I then left and continued walking around.
And I don't much recall much happening after that.
I recall quite vividly that my emotional state was one of gentle awe at the lovliness of the scenery. I remembered feeling that I really desired to be there, in that garden, those woods.