Another Self-Flagellating Dream

No whips of any kind were in this dream, except the brutal emotional ones most of us employ on ourselves. This was a classic mélange of frustration and anxiety.

It began as a military dream. Whether this is true, I remembering being partially awake and telling myself, “Not another military dream.”

Then I wasn’t in a military dream. I was instead outside, with others. We were all all students and were scheduled to give an all-important final presentation. We’d already done one. Using feedback, we were supposed to go back and improve it.

But here I was, not at all fucking ready. It was time to go and I wasn’t dressed. I hadn’t changed my presentation, either.

I told myself, I can do this! Others began leaving for class. One reminded me that I needed to be there on time. The doors would close and lock at eight. If I wasn’t there, I would be failed.

Sure, I wasn’t worried.

Knowing that I needed to change clothes and my presentation, I went in the opposite direction of everyone else. What was I going to wear? How was I going to change the presentation.

I didn’t have answers. Time was running out. I decided, I’d wear what I had on – a red sweater with black pants – even though I’d worn those yesterday. And, by not changing clothes, I could make changes to the presentation.

Time was running out, and I’d wasted so much of it. I rushed toward class.

A bell was ringing.

I wasn’t going to make it.

I partially awoke. Thinking of the dream, I decided, I can change the outcome. Go back, dream again, and change the outcome.

I’m usually not bad at doing this. Today was a failure.

I went back. Time was running out. I would take a short-cut to get to the room. Rushing down a long flight of stairs, I came to another hallway.

It ended.

It was the wrong hallway. I couldn’t reach my class room from there.

A student and a security guard were sitting there, talking about another, but the details reflected my own situation. The student asked, “What if they’re late?”

The guard replied, “It doesn’t matter. I close the doors and lock them.”

“But what if they’re really trying?”

“Doesn’t matter. The doors are locked, and they fail.”

I started back up the hall to head for my class room. I found myself there.

The door wasn’t locked. I opened it and entered.

Everyone looked at me. The teachers (two) looked at me. A classmate said, “You’re in the same clothes. You didn’t change.”

The dream ended.

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