At various times in my life, usually when I am stressed out due to a major transition, I have been subjected to what I call the "school dreams." Last night I had one that was particularly disturbing.
Usually, in my school dreams I am in a place that looks like a combination of the three colleges I attended [2 for undergrad, 1 for grad] and I am facing a test in a class where I haven't attended, ever, or I am trying to find a class where I have a test and I can't find it on the vast campus, or there's some anxiety due to something I've not done and should have done. They are quite unpleasant dreams. I wake up panicky.
Last night, I dreamed I was looking at apartments in student housing. I was alone. I knew I was facing school, yet again, a Ph.D. this time, which I have never really wanted - and I looked at the cheap, bleak little apartment and felt a terrible sense of loss. My children weren't with me. I don't know where they were, but I remember thinking, I cannot do this. I cannot go to school without them. This is horrifying. Where are they? Why do I have to do this, to put my life on hold to get this degree I don't want? It made no sense whatsoever. I felt like I was being forced to learn more, and I didn't want it.
I feel I am on the precipice of some major learning experience of my life, and it will not be an easy lesson, more of a baptism by fire type of deal. Even though I have a strong faith in God, it's scary. I hope I am wrong. I do have some gifts of precognition, though. Dreams of mine often herald big events, like my dreaming of Alesia the night before I met her. I am praying about it.
I was reading another blog a few minutes ago, and there was a quote on there that made me shiver:
"My father didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it." - Clarence Budington Kelland
This is a quote that ties in with my dream, in a weird way. I am living every day in front of my kids' eyes. I am letting them watch me live. What am I teaching them? Do I need to learn how to be a better student, or a better teacher?
When I try to look at myself as an outsider might see me - a wholly disconcerting exercise - I am dismayed by what I see. I am overweight. I rarely get enough sleep and sometimes it makes me quite cranky. I rant and rave about having to clean up after the dog. I get ticked off and yell sometimes. I burp too much. I get far too excited about maintaining an orderly, neat house, and not enough excited about things equally as important, if not more so. I am not rich. I am not "normal" [I hate that word] because I do not have a significant other in my life. I care absolutely nothing about how my hair looks [frequently really odd, these days] or what my clothes look like [I strive for clean, that's it, my only goal].
So, do I want my kids to be like me? Well, yes and no.
I very much want my children to finish college, and if they'd like, go to grad school. That may be impossible for Alesia, but I think it's good to strive for it.
At the same time, if my kids are happy living in a trailer and raising hamsters in the middle of the desert, if that truly makes them happy, then I hope I can accept that and not demand that they live MY way.
I very much want my children to find life partners and make long-term commitments - I am not saying marriage because I know folks who are very happy and committed without the marriage certificate. As long as it's someone who truly loves my child and is good to them, how they define the relationship is not that important.
I do not want them to spend years in hopeless romantic entanglements that leave them emotionally exhausted.
I really want my children to do what makes them happy. My example is probably too schizo to be useful. I work a job to pay bills, and write because I love to write, but I have to fit in my writing in the margins of my day.
I want my kids to be flexible. When I was young I wanted to take a year off after high school and just work. My father said no, no way. I was only 17 when I finished high school. I had been working, doing several plays, studying voice, etc. and I was exhausted. I needed a break without the pressure of college. He was completely inflexible about me not taking off a year. In hindsight, I think working for that year would've helped me mature, and been good. Maybe he didn't want me to do it because he didn't want me living at home. I don't know. I only know I wished he hadn't been so inflexible.
Sometimes I channel dad and I am just totally inflexible about something with the kids, and later regret it. As much as I feel kids need clear rules and discipline, sometimes you have to bend. Do I need to bend more? I don't know.
Do I want my kids to grow up and write a blog?! Now that's a scary thought.
These are just a few things off the top of my head. I probably need to talk, write, and think about these things a lot more. Maybe that's why I dreamed the school dream. Maybe I need to learn how to be the right example.
I take a weird sort of comfort in the fact that both my kids lived with alcoholic birthmothers, so they had to learn to forgive a lot, from early ages. When you live with an alcoholic, in order to emotionally survive, you have to watch them drink and remember, they are a different person when they drink. It's hard to not blame yourself. It's hard to not let it throw you into despair. [I lived with an alcoholic once, for a while, so I know this very well.]
They were given really dysfunctional examples of how to live, and yet they didn't become warped, bitter, angry kids. So many kids would have. My children are sweet, compassionate, and forgiving. They aren't angels, but they can forgive. They can love people who aren't perfect, or even close. They can adapt. They can survive some incredibly difficult things.
Maybe, if I love them enough, they can forgive me for not being the greatest example, too.
