If I dream, I usually don’t remember doing so. I don’t know why. But there are rare exceptions.
I don’t know exactly when it happened, but at some point last night, I had a nightmare. I dreamed we had a 2-hour delay at school, and I used the time to have coffee at my breakfast table with my parents. La-dee-da, nothing wrong there — except 1) Dad and Mother passed away in 1995 and 1996, respectively, and 2) I don’t have a breakfast table in my tiny little kitchen.
Bizarre, to be sure, but I was enjoying it, apparently. Then the weird thing happened: I forgot to go to school.
The rest of the otherwise-pleasant dream experience was horrifying. I couldn’t find a phone. Anywhere. All I could say to everyone around me (and I didn’t even know some of the people) was, “I’m gonna lose my job! I’m gonna lose my job!” I remember trying desperately to come up with an outfit, and flinging open closet door after closet door, only to find the closets empty.
Then, for the pièce de résistance, I happened to find a phone and called the school. The middle school secretary said, “You can come in, but Terry [my principal] has reassigned all your kids to other teachers.” Great. Not only am I in trouble with my bosses, but I’m a permanent pariah to my colleagues. I’m dead to them.
The nightmare must have faded away, because I remember nothing more after that.
What does this mean, my clever fiends? Any Josephs out there want to interpret? I promise I won’t throw you in jail.
Fink out(ta here, because there’s no 2-hour delay and I have to get to school on time!)