On Dreaming (#22)

This was from about a little over a week ago.

I almost skipped tonight's post. However, something compelled me to write something. Perhaps missing last week motivated me. After all, when struggling to meet a goal, something is better than nothing. Maybe the emotional, and at times humorous, discussion my two daughters and I just had about life and change, inspired me. Or, a little bit of both.

Last night I had a series of vivid dreams. What follows is all that I can recall. It began in the gym at the school where I taught. Outside, it was evening, and the dark, gray clouds of a threatening snowstorm hung low. Inside, the low lighting reflecting off the gym floor cast a dull yellowish tint that barely reached the edges of large open space. A small crowd of children were finishing up their packing, and heading to an open door at one end. I was there, a teacher, encouraging them to move faster. This was my final day of working at the school. I wanted it to be over, so I could move on with my life. That feeling was strong and clear within the dream.

As the last of them filed out of the building to meet their parents, I noticed two things. First, strewn about the floor, along the edges of the gym, were piles of dust and crumpled up papers. They appeared to me like tumbleweeds in a ghost town. My initial thought? This is no way for me to leave this place. Must grab a broom and dustpan, clean it up immediately. Then I remembered, that strong urge to be on my way. Someone else will have to take care of it. And I would have left right then and there, except for the second thing that caught my attention.

Along one wall stood wood bleachers. It was empty, save for a single boy. sitting, hunched over. His parents had not arrived. On my end, I was alone, too, for all the other staff and children had exited already. But this time there was no hesitation. I knew what I had to do. When I reached him, he looked up at me. I took his hand. He stood up. Together, we walked down the bleachers, across the gym, through the door, out to a world shrouded in lightly falling snow.

Side by side, we stood, searching across the school yard for his parents. They still had not arrived. Then I noticed two adults conversing, one of whom I recognized, someone who had stopped speaking to me. That person clearly was doing everything not to look in my direction. I desperately wanted to confront them, but there was the matter of the boy. The intensity of my emotions nearly drove me to leave him standing alone. In the dream, I crew annoyed and frustrated with having to wait. However, before I had to make a decision, his parents showed up, and he ran off to meet them.

Freed from this task, I set myself on another. Unwilling to be ignored any further, I marched over to where the two adults were talking. Walking silently between them, I turned my head towards the one who had pushed me away, and glared. They refused to make eye contact, yet were unable to turn away. They stared straight on through me. But their face confessed a struggle between sadness and anger. Satisfied, I smirked and continued walking the length of the school, until I reached the front. Then I turned left, and made my way back inside.

Despite the a strong desire, I just could not leave without cleaning up that mess.

Well, upon reentering the building, I was greeted with an unexpected sight. At the far end of the gym stood a stage. Cleared were the piles of dust and crumpled up papers. Instead, a colleague was moving about, building props, all by himself. Grateful that someone had assisted me in moving on with my life, I smiled.

Speaking no words, and leaving him to his task, I turned to exit the building. My dream became black. Finally, I had woken up.