She blinked, taken aback by what she found on the next page. It was completely blank, except for a short line of text at the top: "Please describe a recent dream you've had." Linda paused, to think. She wondered how the directors could tell if people described real dreams.
Anyone could simply list a series of nonsensical images and symbols, claiming that was her dream. Instead, she sat back and thought about her dreams for the past couple of weeks. There was the time she dreamt about the outpatient center, when some patients showed up with hair covering their faces and cascading down their backs. Others levitated above the recliners the way Linda Blair did in "The Exorcist," also turning their heads around in a circle, spewing vomit in all directions, like a lawn sprinkler. At the bottom of the page she had to write smaller, so she could fit all of the dream there.
She hoped no one would think she was strange.
The last part of the questionnaire seemed like a basic personality inventory, like the kind she'd completed several times during elementary school or high school. Six multiple choice responses followed a statement: Agree Strongly, Agree, Agree Somewhat, Disagree Somewhat, Disagree, and Disagree Strongly. One statement that stood out was "I always tell the truth." Linda had to put down her pen and think that one out.
Sometimes it was hurtful to tell the truth, she thought, like the time a lady at the beauty parlor cut Lauren's bangs too straight, as if she'd been six years old. Lauren had asked her how they looked. She seemed happy with them for some reason, apparently unaware of how they made her look like a first grader. For Linda, to give Lauren her honest opinion would have just created anxiety. Lauren would have marched to the salon and demanded that the lady fix them for her. Knowing that this would create a hassle, Linda just said "They look nice."
She marked the "Agree Somewhat" response, hoping that the directors wouldn't think she was a habitual liar. The last pages of the questionnaire focused on her educational and career goals. When she finally reached the last page, she handed it to the receptionist, who was stuck on a phone call. She pulled the handset away from her ear and covered the mouthpiece.
"They'll call you," she said.
And they did. Two days later she revisited the Psychology department offices, and this time a tall, thin, dark-skinned man with wire-rimmed glasses and a short, frail looking Asian lady in her thirties brought her back to a small office with another window overlooking the library quadrangle. "I'm Raj Patel and this is Dr. Victoria Ling, one of the directors of the Lucid DreamWorks program," he said.