I Dreamed a Dream

I would like to say that I am not really stressed about my Social Studies content exam next week.  I have studied and prepared and taken the practice exams.  I have brushed the dust off of knowledge that I was happy to know still lived in the dark recesses of my brain.  I gave Bill the lowdown on the 13^th, 14^th and 15^th Amendments over morning coffee the other day and he looked interested and not beaten down at the end.  Unfortunately, while I would really like to say I am not stressed about this exam, my dreams say otherwise.

My go-to stress dream has been pretty much the same for the past fifteen years.  In the dream, I am leaving my ex-husband (what?!?  Yep.  Don’t get married at 21; that is all I have to say about that) and I only have x amount of time to pack up and move before he gets home.  Parts of the dream change: the apartment changes, the amount of time I have changes, sometimes I am alone, or I am not.  However, the bulk of the dream is usually the same: I find myself in an apartment I never actually lived in and don’t know where anything is, I can’t find boxes, the clock is ticking and I still have to give notice in the management office.  It is stressful work dissolving a marriage and this dream would wake me up with pounding heart and a sense of dread.  Now, so many years later, this dream leaves me feeling a little annoyed.  Like, this dream again?  Yes, yes, I know, find the boxes; pack the boxes, quick, get out, etc.  Yawn.

My subconscious has thrown me a bone and shifted the dream landscape a little. I started off having dreams where I had to organize a closet or area at work.  Ooh, happy dream, I would initially think because I love to organize and who doesn’t enjoy a good closet purge?  Except it is not my closet and I have never seen any of this stuff before.  Do I keep it?  Do I throw it out?  Does it go in the donate bin?  I. DON’T. KNOW.  Why do we have three games of Hungry, Hungry Hippos but no marbles?  WHERE ARE THE MARBLES??  I woke up from the Hungry, Hungry Hippo game very disoriented, a little sweaty and somewhat sad.  Where are the marbles? 

This looks a lot like me except for the earrings.

Last night’s dream was the worst: family trip to a Disneyesque water park and by family trip, the entire family: all of my siblings, their kids, my kids, my parents staying in the same townhouse.  I might be able to handle the family staying together, but Disney?  Disneyesque water park?  Never in a million years! The absolute worst part of the dream was that no one would make plans for anything.  They wanted to be spontaneous.  NOOOOOOOO I screamed in my dream.  I hate spontaneity.  Well, not really, but I do like a well-made plan.  I had full on heart palpitations and palm sweats from this one.

So, I will concede and admit that I am a little nervous about this test.  It is a lot of information to remember: World History, US History, Texas History, Economics, Psychology, and Government.  Shooooo-eeee!  Of course I shot my mouth off and everyone knows when I am taking this test and what if I don’t pass?  ACK!  WHAT IF I DON’T PASS?!?! Or, what if I don’t do really well?  Why on earth am I developing test anxiety at this stage of my life?  I am sure it will be fine. I will pass or if I don’t, I can study harder and take it again.  So I am a little nervous but I also have a plan.  My plan from now until next week is to study a little more, take deep breaths and drink a lot of wine.  This way when I wake up sweaty at night, it will be from the wine and not my neuroses.

The Gig is Up

Recently, the last of the believers has admitted he no longer believes and I, for one, could not be happier.  No, we are not talking Santa, although I am pretty sure he no longer believes in him either.  He is not saying and I am not pressing for his thoughts on that one.  When he confessed to no longer believing all I could think was “Ding, dong the witch is dead”. Which old witch?  The demonic Tooth Fairy witch; that’s who! I am super relieved that the subterfuge of cash for baby teeth is over. 

See? I am not the only one who thinks she is demonic.

I am not sure who came up with the Tooth Fairy, but my money is on a brother Grimm.  Small, sparkly fairy enters your room at night and leaves money in exchange for your dead teeth?  Enters your room at night.  Don’t we spend a lot of time as parents trying to convince our children that they are indeed the only ones in their room; that there are no monsters or bad guys or supernatural creatures? Oh wait, except for when you lose teeth.  Also, what does she do with them?  Is her castle made out of tiny, baby teeth as some say?  Are they taken and recycled into the mouths of babes yet to be born?  (Dry heave here).  Or, as my husband says, are they taken and ground up into bread?  (And after hearing this, could this be why the boy hates my homemade bread?  He thinks it is made of teeth past?)  The whole story is shaky and I just am not a fan.

And, can I be honest?  I hated playing the role of the Tooth Fairy.  HATED it.  Why?  Well with SG as my starting player for the Tooth Fairy games, I was destined for failure.  The girl has never really slept.  She more levitates over the bed than actually snuggles in and sleeps.  Try sneaking in and not only locating a teeny, tiny, Chiclet baby tooth under a pillow with one hand while inserting money in with the other hand while a levitating-not-ever-really-asleep child hovers over the bed.  “Hey, just checking on you” I would whisper when her eyes invariably flew open.  This plus the fact that she dropped teeth like a puppy and once one fell out, three more were likely to follow in the next two weeks.  The Tooth Fairy was exhausted from the night time games and broke.  My children always seem to lose teeth on the nights I didn’t even have a dollar in my purse and no way could I put silver under their pillow – it would jingle on the way in.  In an all-time parenting low, I will now admit to taking money out of their bank and putting it under their own pillow.  In my worst Tooth Fairy move ever, I took money out of SG’s bank, got close to her bed and just kind of dropped it next to her levitating form. I didn’t even try for the pillow.  Also, no matter what our Tooth Fairy left under pillows, other people’s tooth fairies left more cash.  I began to detest the Tooth Fairy even more as I had to defend her strong economic choices. 

I am not totally heartless; I love the beauty of mythical creatures and make-believe.  I love Santa!  I like that he breaks into your house to give you presents, but he has enough sense not come through your bedroom and leave your presents under your pillow.  I am lukewarm to the Easter Bunny, as are my children, but I go through the hippity hoppity motions with no malice.  Please, it means a basket of chocolate – I am in!  It is just that damn Tooth Fairy.  The concept is flawed, the execution of it destined to fail and it promotes the sense that if you lose something, something else will step in to takes its place.  No, if you lose something, you lose it.

I know all of you people who have the special Tooth Fairy pillow with a pocket for the tooth are tsk-tsking me.  That’s alright.  Keep up your night time games.  I am done playing robber in my own house and I couldn’t be happier.  Ding, dong, the witch is dead!