A linguistic autobiography – what does it mean? I leaned back in my chair, trying to think of something to type for tomorrow's writing workshop. Groaning, I ran my hand over my face. What could I write? I don't even know how to write an autobiography, and even if I did, I hate them. Why couldn't this be an assignment on Shakespeare or something? Taking a deep breath, I looked at the title of my article. “A Linguistic Autobiography”: How Original Was I? I sighed and looked longingly at my bed. A little nap couldn't hurt. I plopped down on the bed and pulled my blanket over my head. After setting my alarm, I started to disappear... I opened my eyes and looked at the yellow sky. What is happening on Earth? Where am I? I got up slowly. The mud came off my clothes and spread into the viscous mud that covered the floor. I looked around me. There were muddy hills as far as the eye could see. Above me, the sky glowed an orange-yellow, like early summer. I turned away and saw something in the distance. Squinting, I could make out the shape of a tree. I looked behind me; there were just miles and miles of thick mud. I sighed. Might as well explore, I thought as I headed towards the tree. After several miles of wading through thick, viscous mud, I reached the hill where the tree stood. Panting, I ran to the hill and started climbing it. My foot slipped on the slippery ground, but I persevered. I reached the top of the hill and was disappointed. The trees were supposed to be surrounded by other plants and teeming with wildlife. Not this tree. The mud I walked through covered the hillside, covering the roots of the tree. There were no other plants. Actually, as I looked around I noticed that ... middle of paper ... there was a lot going on in my head that I couldn't always sort through and form a complete thought . When I type text or use a pen and pad of paper, I can express all my thoughts in a neat and orderly manner without any difficulty. I sighed and took a step back. These three branches were my language, the different ways I connected with others. They represented the three aspects of dialogue that make me up. Shaking my head, I looked around. There was only mud. Well, I'm bored now. What should I do? Do I wait here, or... The sound of my alarm woke me up. Groggily, I hit the stop button and sat down. What a strange dream. This is the last time I take a nap in the middle of my English homework. Wait, I know what to do now! I jumped out of bed, almost tripping over my backpack, and plopped down at my desk. I opened my laptop. With a little smile, I started to write.