I cannot recall how this dream began, but at some point I was in a small group of people, mostly other professors in the department and at least one administrator. The admin was a woman, very wrapped up in the professional persona and atmosphere. She was thin, medium height, about 35-40 yrs. She had dark brown, if not black, hair that was all pulled back tightly in a bun or ponytail. She had a thin face, high cheekbones, a pointed chin and nose, and small, thin lips. But she wasn't ugly by any means. She was beautiful, in an uptight sort of way. She was, I think, the only other woman, besides myself, present.

The topic of discussion was Quentin Smith. He had not shown up for many meetings and classes, not returned phone calls and emails. He was supposed to teach this day. She had gone to his house to get him, but he didn't answer the door. She called him, banged on the door, but got no answer.

So I asked her, "Did you try opening the door? Did you check to see if it was locked or not?" She looked surprised, disgusted, and ashamed all at once. I told it was possible the door was unlocked and she could have just gone in. Okay, they all decided, we'll all go to Quentin's house, try the door, and see what we can do. We all went: two cars.

We got to Quentin's house. It was a house, not an apartment. It was secluded, in the middle of the woods. Looking around I noticed that the trees and foliage were so thick that some of the sunlight was filtered out. It was not too bright, but also not too dim either. His house was small. The woods were beautiful. It looked like the very beginning of autumn. We all got out of the cars and approached the door. The admin was at the front, there were a couple of men in front of me, but I stll had a pretty clear view of the door. She reached for the knob and turned it. It opened. She pushed it open about two feet. The house was a little smokey inside. And door was open enough to see just how messy it was. It was as if there was no furniture at all, everything scattered all over the place, nothing had its own place to be put away.

But we only had a couple of seconds to peer in when Quentin appeared in the door, with his long black coat, his bag ready to go. He looked at all of us for a moment surprised, but then just kind of pushed us all out by grabbing his bag and coming out, closing the door behind him. The only thing that was a bit strange was that Quentin was wearing sunglasses.

Everyone backed out of the doorway and walked to the cars; Quentin followed. They were all silent. And it all happened in slow motion. They walked to the cars, got in, John and I moved to get in our car. Then my perspective changed: I moved out of my body to a third person perspective, which hovered above the scene, looking down, but spanning back, higher and higher into the trees. And it was just so beautiful again.

And then I awoke.
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.