Repeating dream . . .

The first time I had this dream was last Friday.  I’ve had it 3 times since.

Honestly, I am not sure if it should be classed as a dream or a nightmare.  The emotions it invokes are intense, but nothing that is actually bad happens, and part of it is pretty cool.

First off – there is NO WAY it could happen in the life I have now.  In the dream, I’m between 8-12 years old, and in a public school.  Since, as I write this, I am less than a month away from turning 54, that just isn’t going to happen.  I suppose it “could” be a peek at my next life – with a half-dozen caveats to the laws of physics.  Oh, and then there is the whole gender thing – in the dream I’m a girl.

Ok, I’ll share the dream.

I’m sitting at my desk, in the middle of the classroom.  There are about 20-30 other kids in the class, and the teacher is a woman in her 40’s.  There is a lot of excitement in the room, as today is the last day of school for the term, and we’re about to take our final exams.  One entire wall has windows along the full length, and all are open about half way, with no screens covering them.  There are large black boards at the front and back of the classroom.

The teacher stands from her desk and announces that the finals will be taken one-at-a-time, and will be oral.  Then she tells everyone to file into the coat closet – except me.  I’m to report to the principal’s office.

I’m completely unaware of having done anything wrong, so I ask why I’m being sent to the principal’s office.  She states that it is to prevent cheating, and I pop a gasket. “Cheating?  ME?  You’re worried about ME cheating?  I’ve never once cheated, nor helped anyone else cheat, and you’re worried about me?  I go to Sunday School with them (indicating the other kids)  – I know what they believe and are capable of.  I AM NOT THE ONE TO WORRY ABOUT!”

Not only does my voice slowly increase in volume throughout that short speech, but I’m unaware until it is through that I’ve been gaining altitude as well.  By the end, my feet are level with the top of my desk, but I’m not standing on anything.  I’m floating.  Weirdly, when I realize this, my reaction is that it is as natural as breathing.  I look at all the kids, back to the teacher, and just accept it as what is – then I tell the teacher one last thing.  “I don’t care what grade you give me, because I’m NEVER coming back here.”  Then I fly out the window.

Growing pains . . . . . . .

I had a rough night last night, but the results were well worth the lack of sleep. Read on.

I think I said in the post about my purif that I was far from being the most popular kid in my class. At 16 (when my parents divorced and my family moved away) I was still around 5’2″ and perhaps 100#. I was insecure, rebelious, a loner – oh, and let’s not forget that I had spent about 8-10 years making a total fool of myself over a female classmate. Just one.

She was the only member of my class who was smaller than me, and she was beautiful even as a 2nd grader (in my opinion, anyway). When we reached junior high school, she became one of our cheerleaders, and was always either Captain or #2 of the squad. She also never gave me the time of day. I was an annoyance, a pest. If she could have sprayed me with DDT, I think she would have. And I didn’t care.

Now, I’ve had several intimate relationships since I left Lebo. Each was always very dear and special to me, but last night I realized why they all (up to this one I’m in now) ultimately failed.

I had never given up on that first girl who never said a kind word to me.

So, about last night. It started with a dream. Now, I know that LRH doesn’t speak very highly of dreams, but please hold onto your hat and read through this. In the dream, I’m in the locker room back in Lebo, showering alone. I’m tired and sore, like I’ve had a tough workout. I’m also my current (real time) age of 41.

In walks this old flame, wearing exactly what you’d expect her to wear in her home shower. She’s looking pretty good for 42 and being a mom of teenagers, too. Somehow, though, this didn’t turn into an erotic dream. Instead, I’m standing there in a half panic thinking to myself – “Barbara would shoot me if she could see this.” That was when I woke up, still feeling the typical symptoms of a panic. Barbara is my current wife.

LRH once described a dream as the resting mind’s efforts to solve a current problem. So, I had to spend some time trying to figure out what problem that dream was trying to solve.

About a month ago, Barbara and I took a trip back to Lebo, and this old flame was one of two of my old class mates that I talked with while I was there. For the first time that I can remember, she seemed genuinely glad to see me.

So, after waking from that dream, I had to sort out how I felt. It came down to this – I had finally let go of that hope that I would find a way to get the old flame to want me. More importantly, I didn’t want her anymore, because my current marriage means more to me than the childhood fantasy did.

After reaching that cognition, I realized something else. Why she was so friendly. 20+ years ago, I had her on a pedestal, and she was a cheerleader. Now she is a housewife with teenage kids. A soccer mom.  Seeing me, I think, brought back for a moment, the memory of how if felt to her to be on that pedestal. Oh, she’s still shorter than me, too, but now between 4-6 inches shorter. And I probably weigh twice what she does.

Well, that is my story for today.