I had one of those weird anxiety dreams. . .

[xiphias]

I was in high school. And it was the first day of class of the year. I was in homeroom. Being 31 years old, I was the oldest person in the room except possibly the teacher.

I remember thinking, "This MUST be a dream. Because I remember GRADUATING from high school. Heck, I remember going to college! In any case, I don't live in Arlington any more, so why am I in Arlington High School?" Even so, I went around looking for my class schedule.

Comments

[chanaleh.livejournal.com]

Wow, this is a LOT like the high-school recurring anxiety dreams I have. I'm always back there years later, can't find my way around, have no schedule but am supposed to be in class somewhere. Except I rarely actually *find* or attend any classes; the bell rings and I end up spending the whole dream skulking around hallways and cafeterias trying not to get caught being out of class, since I don't know where I'm supposed to be. ;-)

Interestingly, when I was in college, I had a similar recurring dream, but almost as some kind of inverse anxiety dream... that is, in the dreams it was so comforting to be back in high school, even though I couldn't quite figure out why I was back there (or what my schedule was supposed to be), I was like, "This is all I have to do? Joy!"

[kyra-ojosverdes.livejournal.com]

I hate those dreams! I spend days and days (in dreaming-time) trying to figure out where my locker is, what the combination is, what my class schedule is... and why on earth they're making me take one more semester of high school at THIS late date, the jerks.

When my children were younger, I'd be doing all this with a baby on my hip, dragging a toddler behind me.

Maybe we underestimate how stressful high school really is? ;-)

[whuffle.livejournal.com]

btw, one of the school teachers for my synagogue has left and they are looking for someone to replace her. interested?

[xiphias.livejournal.com]

Weekdays or Sundays?

same dream - same anxiety

[rebmommy.livejournal.com]

...only I am far enough away from High School that mine takes place at Jewish conferences. First time I was going to teach at a conference I had this dream: Walking around the halls of a hotel - lugging bags, books, drum - trying to find the room where I was supposed to teach. I was lost in hoards of people, in the halls, on the elevator. Finally, I overheard someone say they were headed for my workshop - so I followed them to a huge auditorium with over 300 people waiting impatiently for things to start. I was climbing on to the stage - bags, books, and drum in hand - when my sister Ellen grabbed my arm and said, "Tell them I'm your sister." I got out of her grip, walked to the microphone, sat on the stool set up for me, and promptly dropped my clay drum, which shattered into a million pieces. I looked at the shattered pieces, looked at the hundreds of people expectantly waiting, and said into the microphone, "I'm sorry, but I can't go on. I just lost my grounding." I picked up the bags and books and walked out.

The very next morning I bought my first metal dumbek.