I rarely remember my dreams. If anything, after a few minutes passes, I only remember that I had had a dream that I tried to remember. But this morning, I awoke remembering a dream AND remembering that it has been recurring this semester. Like most dreams of mine, it is utterly mundane. But this one seems a variation of the "I forgot to dress and now I'm in public naked" type stress dreams. What happens in this dream is that I find out that I'm teaching an extra course that I never knew I was teaching. What is weird is that I keep forgetting that I'm teaching this class (I can't even remember the title of the course), yet when rush, embarrassed, to the class after not being there for several weeks, it seems that they are getting along just fine and that someone, somehow, has been taking care of things. And then I forget that I'm teaching the class and I rush in embarrassed and all is fine. And then I forget . . .
Like I said, I rarely remember my dreams, and they are almost always mundane. So I wanted to jot this one down that also occurred this morning. I only have a fragment, and not the whole narrative arc, but the basic action/actors is this: I'm living in a a Brady Bunch style of house, and a deaf Japanese punk rocker comes over and starts dancing, as if he is auditioning for something that I didn't know I was casting. And suddenly he has a friend with him who is also dancing, and maybe DJ-ing. Then this second guys curls up in a little ball and falls asleep in a chair. And then I wake up.
Feel free to analyze.
About Me
- Michael LeVan
- "--Of the twoheaded octopus, one of whose heads is the head upon which the ends of the world have forgotten to come while the other speaks with a Scotch accent. The tentacles . . ."
2 comments:
I totally get that the first dream is an anxiety dream and it makes perfect sense as such, but I'm also struck with the desire to invert it and say how impressed I am that even your subconscious has this pedagogical sense that the students can be and should be the driving force for their own education. It almost sounds like an ideal teaching experience: you pop into class periodically to check that they're focused and on task, and when discovering that they are, you get out of their way and let them continue their work.
You feel like an observer. You are afraid they can't hear you, but you admire that they have an inner beat they seem to be listening to. They are more in control than you are--they are dancing, DJing, and doing their own thing. They are unselfconscious enough to fall asleep in chairs. You need them, but do they need you? That is the crucial question, because when they go to sleep, you have to wake up. There is nothing to watch anymore. You have to do your own thing now.
Your dream says, wake up! Are you dancing yet?
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