Apparently it's nightmare season? Oh, or maybe it's that my PhD exams are coming up at the end of the summer. Bring on the anxiety dreams!
I was driving through snow. It wasn't very much snow, and it didn't look too slippery, until oncoming cars started slipping elaborately, all across the road in front of me. Then I started sliding, too. I'm pretty sure I ran over a fallen bicycle wheel on the shoulder. And that there was a cop behind me when I did so. I figured if he pulled me over I'd say I hadn't noticed.
I got to the freeway and realized I was taking the wrong way to get to the place I needed to be, and to which I was probably already going to be late. Then (far too late to turn around), I realized that I was headed to my summer teaching job, and that I didn't have any of my supplies with me.
In the building, I put down what I did have with me (my purse?) and saw that the clock said 1:40. That meant I was either 10 minutes late for the start of a 1:30 class, or maybe just shy of the requisite half hour early for a 2:00 class (although we were supposed to be there an hour early on the first day of class, and this was the first day). I went looking for a schedule of events happening at the building, and saw that my reading class was indeed scheduled for that day, from 2:00-4:00. As I was looking at the schedule, I saw one of my parents from last summer, who I really liked. She gave me a hug and told me what a great experience it had been, and that she'd brought her kids back for more. I looked around and saw several parents with small children. I smiled uneasily, terrified about what I could possibly put together in the next 20 minutes without my lesson plan, let alone any books for the kids to read, or even their materials packets. To make matters worse, I realized that that first class was to be a Level 2, the only level I hadn't taught last summer. I was feeling horrified at the thought that I would just have to tell everyone we couldn't have class today on this first day when I woke myself up. What a relief.
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