Dreaming of AWP

This is one of those tedious dream re-tellings (don't say you weren't warned). Myself, I find anybody's dreams fascinating. This started out as the standard "plane's leaving in less than an hour and I haven't packed a thing" dream. Soon, however, AWP was being held in Paris, and I was back in high school. They bussed our class to a building with an immature bald eagle warbling in a tree outside. Within, we each had a locker with the names of all our poems on the front, containing things we needed to take to AWP. Mine had (1) a hand-written note from two "America's Next Top Model" contestants, (2) an original watercolor design for a wine label by someone named Cumbert, featuring a horse with no neck and a lot of blue sky, and (3) a home-made travel game challenging the passenger to identify phenomena associated with the end of the world, as seen from the air. Explosions, green whirlpools, etc. Frightfully jolly.