IS THE LAST year or so I have been suffering from a recurrent nightmare, and perhaps some of you might be able to relate to it.

I am lying in bed asleep dreaming about Uncle Wiggly's magic tree house or something, when suddenly my door is kicked in I leap awake to see three heavily armed men in ski masks standing over one.

"What is this?" I cry, "I registered!!"

"Shut up!" One snarls, drawing back the bolt on his Schmeisser, "You're coming with us," I am just about to ask the tall one if he is my QRA advisor when a rifle butt crasher down on the back of my head.

I wake up in a cold, dank cell, tied to a chair. A hot light is shining in my face, blinding me, scoring me. "He's awake," someone snickers, "Who's got the cattle prod?"

"Help! Help!" I scream, but am answered only by my echoes, "Who are you people? Kidnappers? Terrorists?!" The only response is cruel laughter, "Who are you, then?" I gasp.

"Your worst nightmare, Admissions officer,"

"Heh? What do you want from me?"

"Answers, Like, why aren't you captain of the football team?"

"Whatdo you mean, why not? I don't play football any more!"

"It says here on your application would play, any wrestle,"

I am really staring to sweat, "Well that was before my knce injury,"

"Oh yes, your knee injury. But how does that present your from being Senior Editor of the Crimson, or Present of the Lampoon or head of the Undergraduate Council, or"

The list goes on and on as sweat pours from my body. At length ball up my application, and force me to eat it, "What have you done here?" one of my Inquisitors finally demands.

I mumble something about a paper of mine that a section leader liked, and they roar in derision, "The Uses of Back Hair Imagery in Paradise Lost?!"