My Daughter / My Mother

It's weird how things get so twisted in the sub-conscious and how they reinterpret themselves through dreams.  Last night I dreamed that I was coming home from work (as an English instructor - somehow I knew this), but I was in Massachusetts (rather than in North Carolina), going through the back entrance of my childhood home.  My mother (who died in 1996) met me at the door and announced that she had found an apartment.  In my dream, I expressed surprise only in that she had found one so soon.  Somehow,  I knew that we had to move because we no longer owned the house (I actually lost it to the bank in 2009). 

Obviously I could not see myself in this dream, but I felt as if I was the age I currently am (as opposed to the age I was when my mother died).  She, however, looked the same as in 1996.  She said that the landlord would meet us to show the apartment, and as we stepped off the back porch, I saw my friend Lissa in front of her house across the street and waved (Lissa bought that house a few years AFTER my mother died and still lives there).

Ma and I walked to the house next door to ours ( a three family house) where a man who looked like David Hasselhoff (and I told him so) met  us.  Ma introduced him as the owner of the property.  I made a comment that I 'd expected to see "Andy" at that house but then (in the dream) remembered that he had sold it (although, in reality, he sold it after my relocation to NC, over 12 years after Ma's death).

Once inside, the three of us made our way up the stairs, which did not look like the stairs in that house but more like those at Livingstone College where I teach.  Several young people were also on the stairs, and somehow I knew that they were students of L.C. although I didn't actually recognize any of them.  One of our coaches was also there.  A young Latino male (not a student - how did I know this?) made a derogatory comment (something I heard on last night's rerun of NCIS) to one of the African American females, who reciprocated by "face-punching" him, causing him to lose his balance and topple down the stairs.  We all watched as he repeatedly banged his head on the way down.  The coach ran toward the now still body at the foot of the stairs, and as I yelled down "Is he dead?" the coach started yelling about how much the college's reputation will suffer when the police are called.  The young lady, remorseless, simply said the man deserved to die for saying what he said.

My mother, the owner, and I continued up the stairs to see the apartment, which looked nothing like the actual apartment in that house.  The dream apartment had three kitchens.  Why???  We discussed the rent ($575) which I thought a bit high and where several pieces of Ma's furniture (all from my childhood and long gone) would be placed.  In the last part of the dream, Ma and I were discussing how all her stuff would be moved; she did not want to hire movers but insisted that she and I would be able to handle it ourselves.

Recently, I helped my daughter move from one apartment to another, so I know where the moving came from, but somehow she ended up in the dream as my mother.  Throw in my current job and an episode of NCIS, stir and bake overnight.  I have NO idea where Hasselhoff came in; I have not seen or heard anything pertaining to him recently, and I was never really a fan anyway.  Dreams like this leave me confused and disoriented as I wake and during the day I tend to feel slightly "off."

The mysteries of the sub-conscious . . .\

Out of My Head and Onto the Page

This past week, I required my Creative Writing class to create blogs.  I told them how important frequent writing is and how a blog is an excellent forum to "voice" one's thoughts to the (cybor)  world.  I also cautioned them that material posted on a blog is accessible to the public.  I compared blogging to standing on a street corner and yelling your thoughts / feelings to the passersby.  One would have no control over which individuals happened to walk by in that scenario, just as the blogger has no control of who happens to find a specific blog.  Lastly, I reminded my students that once blogs are posted, the material is technically published, so I cautioned them to use common sense regarding language and content.

Overall, the results were satisfactory.  A few of the students outdid themselves, as is typically the case with any assignment.  A few did not even do the assignment . . . as is typically the case with any assignment.  Perhaps one of the most positive result of this assignment was that reading my students' blogs motivated me to begin my own - something I've been trying to address for about a year now.  Why has it taken me so long to begin?  I created my profile some time ago, intending to follow through, but have been remiss.  Not that I haven't been writing.  I've actually been quite pleased with the essays I've produced during the past year (despite my inability to get any of them published).

Writing is not fun for me, though I seem to recall that it once was.  Perhaps, now that I've  finally begun blogging, I will find it rewarding enough to continue.  I hope so.