A Dream with Meaning

I had an interesting dream last night.  More and more, I wake up and don't remember my dreams, so I thought I'd jot this one down.

I was in college again, but not as a young 20-something, instead I was 40.  I was attending some ivy league school, and funnily my parents had dropped me off there.  I waited in the hallway, facing several brown doors, and when they creaked open the smell of old, musty wood drifted around the room.

I walked into class, and I sat next to a man who was also in his forties.  He looked like Lance Armstrong.  Our professor thought it would be fun to play a game, since it was the first day of school.  He passed out cards upside down.  Everyone in the room seemed to know what they were doing, including the man sitting next to me, but I was lost. 

The man sitting next to me turned over one of his cards that showed a black puppy running around with his tongue hanging out.  The professor then turned one of his cards over, and it was three people hugging.  The Lance Armstrong look-a-like won, and the professor had to take the two cards and put them face down.  This went on several turns, and I couldn't figure out what was going on.

Finally, the professor told me to turn over a card.  I picked a card with a solitary figure standing against a black background.

The professor just shook his head, "Don't you see?  That card doesn't represent happiness."

When I woke up, it really made me think.  I'm in control of my happiness.  It's almost as easy as picking a card out of the deck.  Sometimes we pick the wrong cards, and we have to find our way again.