Ha ha ha ha! Today’s prompt is “nightmare” and last night over and over again I had “teacher dreams.”
If you’ve been — or are — a teacher I don’t need to explain anything but for those of you who have never entered a classroom in that capacity there are certain dreams that most teachers can expect to have during their career.
Teachers really DO dream they walk into their classroom naked. I dreamed that until I DID (essentially) walk into my classroom naked. I wrote about that HERE. It’s a funny story but I don’t want to write it AGAIN. ONCE was enough. The other dreams fit more the anxiety and frustration dream genres. They are almost always about the first day of school, an earth-shattering event that happens every fall.
Every fall since I began teaching — and since I retired — I’ve had those dreams. Last night one right after the other. They were classic. In one dream, I didn’t have clothes because I was suddenly about to start teaching, and all I had with me were the clothes I typically wear now — jeans, T-shirts, shorts, T-shirts. Someone pulled a bunch of clothes out of a costume rack from the theater classes. None of them fit, but I had to go to class anyway. Then, several times, I had the classic dream of having a class, no real description of the class, and no idea where the classroom was. All the people in THAT dream are superlatively helpful giving directions, “Oh, it’s over there!” My teaching dreams are always on a campus I KNOW (some version of San Diego State) but it’s never the same twice, familiar buildings in unfamiliar places.
In my sleep I was detached enough to protest, “Yeah but I’m not teaching anymore!” Unless you’re a skilled lucid dreamer, your dreams don’t “listen.” Were these nightmares? Yes and no. For the “me” in the dreams, definitely. For the me curled up under my duvet the dreams were entertaining.
A real nightmare happened last year when it snowed 12 wet inches here in Monte Vista, breaking trees and challenging everything. Whole flocks of migrating birds fell from the sky, dead. It was a very bad, bad in the sense of evil. Definitely a lesson for me in “be careful what you wish for.”
Meanwhile, I’m continuing to paint apples. It’s strangely soothing and seems to be helping me think things through.
Who knew. The problem is I’m going to have to bake them soon. I guess I can paint a pie. And, you know, an apple for the teacher.