`This seems to be a slow idea day, just nothing much that strikes my fancy. And even though I’m sure no one but me is interested in my dream states, I may as well recount some of them here. I have a lot of classroom dreams most often as teacher, but some as student—some pleasant, some unpleasant, some just weird. I wonder what Dr. Freud would say about them.
In one, I was taking a final in a college history course with very few students. The teacher handed out the tests and assigned us numbers and words to put at the top of the test. Most got numbers, but I got the word “who.” The test consisted of about five essays topics and we could take it anywhere we wanted to. I went to some room down the hall and began writing. Or trying to write. I suffered the same kind of paralysis I used to have when taking a timed test and I just couldn’t seem to get started. Time was just whipping by and I had only just begun my first essay. Oh, how painful the process. Trying to get thoughts down on paper but always aware of the clock. Finally, I just gave up and went back to turn in my unfinished test, knowing I would have failed the course. But how very accurate was the feeling of being paralyzed.
In another, the teacher was really attractive and sexy and even though it was a test day she kept going around the room dancing and flirting with all the males. Finally, she got around to me. She told me to touch noses with her but that I should look only at her nose and not mine. We did that and then she very lightly put her lips against mine. And very slowly it turned into a full embrace and kiss that lasted a long time, during which I became aware that she was crying. I pulled away from her and tried to console her. I had the feeling she was crying because the kiss was so beautiful, so moving, and she’d intended it to be only silly.
In another, I was sitting in on a seminar in some college or other and the teacher had us all put a coin marker on a date on a huge calendar on the floor. The date was supposed to represent one of the most meaningful times of our lives. No one else wanted to go first, so I did. I started telling them about a teacher I had who so influenced me in my desire to do something creatively, in music. His name was Major Sindar Buchanan Fargis. I was surprised that everyone in the seminar had heard of him. The teacher then said that he’d do some research and I could continue my story at the next meeting.
Like I said, weird. Or maybe it's just me and not the dreams that's weird.