As I drive down the road on this fine December morning, in the second hour of a ten hour trip I reflect on the changes to my life since last summer. I also have plenty of time to analyze the recurring dream that woke me this morning, and the past several mornings. It haunts me because my mother and grandmother claim we Murphy women have prophetic dreams.
The psychology class I had originally wanted to take had filled up within minutes on registration day. Many Psych majors were going to have to postpone their graduation for another semester. The Dean of Science therefore decided to offer a special summer course for those affected students. A course of seven hour classes, five days a week for six weeks figured to get us all the credit we needed to graduate on time. I was actually trying to
