I have a lot of strange dreams, most of which are the sort I’m asleep for rather than being a commentary about my ambitions in life. Among other things, I’ve been chased in airplane crashes, shot in a convenience store parking lot, and chased by dinosaurs. Sometimes there is an alignment with some particular thing going on in my life and I certainly remember the dreams more when I am stressed, something probably related to my tendency to wake frequently through those nights. Dreams are one of those things like fantasy sports, politics, and religion that one should tread carefully about because they are either boring or likely to cause a fight. Still, I had a dream last night that I want to document because it goes beyond any sort of dream logic, cinematic action sequence, or witty repartee.
In this dream I was back in one of my elementary school classrooms. The building has a first floor atrium with four rooms with tall doors and small chairs. The tall doors may be a residual memory from passing through them as a child, but the chairs were normal-sized back then. In this dream, I was back in class in the room through the near door on the left as you walk into the atrium from the front of the building. This was the room I was in for first and second grade, I think. In the dream, I was sitting in the little chairs at the little tables, but at my current age, knowing everything I know now, as the teacher lectured us on Greek history. I was in the class and going to be graded on…something. That part of the dream is fuzzy. I also have no idea why we were getting a simple, but legitimate lecture on Greek history in first grade, except that what the teacher was saying was wrong and I was getting mad. But I was in first grade and correcting what was being said was going to count against my grade. Why there were stringent grades is another good question.
Then I woke up.
This was just a strange dream that built on my insecurities and cast me back into a situation where I no longer belong. It was a strange dream that mashed together a bunch of things I think about on a regular basis, including education and Greek history. If I were to analyze this strange dream it would be that I still daily fight with imposter syndrome, except that, in this case, I knew better than the one who was permitted to speak and had all the authority and I found myself chaffing at this situation. Maybe it is all a metaphor for adult life, or maybe it was just a strange dream compiled by misfiring synapses trying to tell me I need to take a break.
Noodlings 