Is This a Weekday?

Coney Island Dawn (or Sunset)

An hour before dawn. As I passed the split for the Lincoln Tunnel on the BQE, I had the momentary sensation that I wasn't on the right road. It seemed somehow that the main road had curved away to the right and I was now on Bob Frost's proverbial "one less traveled by." 

The night before I dreamt that I asked the student teacher I was to observe for her room number. She looked perplexed, paused, and answered, "Oh, it's like a small number of coins." In my sleep-fogged mind, I had begun to play out possibilities: Would 25+5+5=Rm. 35 or Rm. 2555? (and when did the cent symbol disappear from my keyboard?)

A few days before, I was looking at the show on the third floor of the main branch of New York Public Library. A young man with a Latin accent asked me, "Where is the library?" I must have had the same expression as the student teacher in my dream. "You're in the library," I said. He asked again, and I directed him to the main reading room, which seemed to me to be the most library-like place in the place.

Is disorientation contagious? What is the opposite of orientation anyway? Must be occidentation.