dreams in waking.

in the late fall, when all of the leaves had fallen and the days darkened already in the afternoon, columbia would string lights up on the trees on their main walkway. this was always done with the grandiosity of a state visit, an army of black-clothed men balancing on ladders with wires strewn across the way, marking each branch with the precise amount of glowing pieces and hiding all additional wires from view, making the larger statement that the university itself was grand and precise and perfectly-thought out. once completed, the lit trees gave an air of romance, exaggerated one hundred times over by the humongous black wrought iron gates and the stone path, all of which was eclipsed by the old architecture surrounding. the trees were perfectly linear, branches cut back and tamed, establishing two parallell rows traversing the width of the university, only leaving an open space in the middle for the larger-than-life view of both classically styled libraries (one used, one for show). there were fleeting moments that someone would stop and look up into the trees, somehow expecting to steal away a piece of the light and stillness. in a different world, we would have been glad to pause and drink hot beverages on the steps or to sit and read poetry that reflected the mood of the cooling weather. but we were hurried, harried, and only had the brief line of small lights to enjoy before scurrying off to another project or things that just had to get done. those were the times that we dressed up into the most absurd winter outfits, large knit hats and scarves with bare legs, spring dresses with layers of sweaters, representative of our wish to remain somewhat bohemian, yet show off our priviledged student status. on lucky days when someone had a date, or the roommate who couldn't write another paper dragged you out, a little more time was spent beneath the trees, and perhaps a run to the hungarian pastry shop, if there were a few extra dollars to spare. you laughed and talked about the adam sandler movies you'd seen, reflecting how young and anti-elite (in hiding) were really were, while i trailed behind quietly, breathing into my cup, forcing steam to rise across my face.

when i think about the four years of my life spent within the four blocks of that school, of all the hours i must have spent running back and forth, the classes, the people, the books, the things to do, the opportunities to be had... out of everything, what i still remember most are the lights.