Dreams

27 Jan 11

What is a dream? I found myself pondering that question after waking up from a doozy. Oddly enough it wasn't the dream that woke me up, it was the eerie silence. After a week at J-bad, I've become accustomed to noise. Aircraft on the flight line; vehicles driving by my quarters all night; my air conditioning unit trying to free itself from the wall...the sounds of slumber.

Before diving into the dream, I should share a bit of history. My fifth grade teacher was named Mr. Hurst, and like most educators privileged enough to experience me, he hated my guts. Everyday at F.R. Danyus Elementary School was like my own private Shawshank Redemption. One of the more memorable exchanges between us went a little like this:

Mr. Hurst: “Chris, I think it's time for you to be quiet.”
Me: “I think it's time for you to leave me alone.”
Mr. Hurst: “Okay Chris, you just bought a day of detention.”
Me: “Whatever!”
Mr. Hurst: “Make that two days.”
Me: “You don't scare me.”
Mr. Hurst: “Three days!”
Me: “We'll see what my mom has to say about this.”
Mr. Hurst: “FOUR DAYS!”
Me: “How about I just shut up now...”

He actually ended up giving me five days of detention because he...how did he phrase it, oh yeah, “despised” me. As for what my mother had to say about it, let's just say I lost on that front as well and leave it at that. Two-front conflicts are rarely winnable, and my venture into that arena was no different. But you have to admit telling an eleven year-old kid you despise him is pretty mean.

How does this relate to my dream? Well it happens that I was a fifth grade teacher at that same elementary school. I was dealing with a lippy child who looked remarkably similar to me. He wouldn't shut up...it was amazing. He was a know-it-all with a wise-guy remark for everything I said. I wanted to throw a chair at him. Holy cow that kid was annoying!

After waking up, I had time to think about that disturbing dream. Was it my sub-conscious' way of saying, “Chris, you have lived up to your full 'jerk' potential”; or was I merely suffering indigestion from the sizable coffee drink I had before bed. I'm willing to go along with Scrooge's mindset that crazy dreams can be traced to 'a blot of mustard' or 'a crust of bread'...or a large latte frappe. But more than likely it was my sub-conscious hard at work being a jerk itself.

I guess there is some credibility to the sub-conscious angle. After all, it seems silly to blame being challenged to a fight by my tenth grade history teacher on indigestion.

-ckj