A Linguistic Autobiography: What Does It Mean? I leaned back in my chair, trying to think of something to write for the essay workshop the next day. 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 it be a test 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 short nap couldn't hurt. I collapsed onto the bed and pulled the blanket over my head. After setting the alarm, I began to fade… I opened my eyes and looked at the yellow sky. What the hell is going on? Where are they? I got up slowly. The mud peeled off my clothes, falling into the slimy mud that covered the ground. I looked around. There were muddy hills as far as I could see. Above me the sky shone a yellow-orange color, like an early summer day. I turned and saw something in the distance. Squinting, I could make out the shape of a tree. I looked over my shoulder; there was nothing but miles and miles of thick mud. I sighed. We might as well explore, I thought as I wandered in the direction of the tree. After several kilometers of walking in thick, slimy mud, I reached the hill where the tree was. Panting, I ran towards the hill and began to climb it. My foot slipped on the slippery ground, but I persevered. I reached the top of the hill and felt disappointed. The trees were supposedly surrounded by other plants and teeming with wildlife. Not this tree. The mud I walked through covered the hill, covering the tree's roots. There were no other plants. In fact, as I looked around, I noticed that... in the middle of the paper... there were many things in my head that I can't always categorize and form a complete thought. When I write or use a pen and pad of paper, I can get all my thoughts out clearly and orderly with little 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 the dialogue that make me up. Shaking my head I looked around. There was nothing but mud. Well, I'm bored now. What should I do? I wait here, or... The sound of the alarm woke me up. Groggily, I pressed the off button and sat down. What a strange dream. This is the last time I take a nap while doing my English homework. Wait, I know what to do now! I jumped out of bed, nearly tripping over my backpack, and dropped onto my desk. I opened my laptop. With a small smile, I started writing.