Dreaming of Reality

Many branches of psychology were developed from the idea that a person's dreamscape can give us a little hint to what is truly going on beneath the conscious thoughts of a person's mind. Some early branches of psychology argued that dreams were the only true glimpses of truth a person would ever share. Our conscious thoughts and expressions were shallow-- untruthful even. But our subconscious and our unconscious thoughts and feelings certainly made up how we truly feel. I like to think those psychologists published mostly bold-faced lies to prey on young women who seemed "unsettled" for their time period, but who am I to really know? Sometimes when I find myself dreaming, I am so certain that what is happening in my dreamscape is what I desire to become reality. Other times, I am so terrified by that possibility because of what my dreams are about. A few months ago I was suffering from severe nightmares-- a troublesome habit I suffered as a child too. I googled every dream I had, asked my husband and friends what they thought the dreams could mean, and each of them reassured me that my dreams were not some unfulfilled desire that my unconscious mind was pushing to the surface. Regardless of the origin of these dreams, I was able to push them out of my mind after a trip to the crystal store and some seriously restorative yoga sessions. The past two nights I've had the most haunting, yet uplifting and self-realizing dreams I've had in a while. For those of you who can remember your dreams, and for the fewer of you who try to rationalize them throughout the day, you know what kind of dream I'm talking about. In case you are neither of these two types of people, I will share with you what I mean. Dream #1: Animal Abuse I'm trapped in a mansion that looks oddly familiar to a modernized version of Belle's Castle. I am trying to make sure that my infant child is not stolen from me, so I try to take her up the grand staircase to the second floor. While walking up the stairs I come across a snake with large fangs. It begins to hiss at me, striking at my ankles. I should also probably add that the snake has two arms near its head. I begin stomping the snake and even manage to pick it up and throw it down the stairs. Enraged, it comes at me faster...so I snap its arms in half. Wincing and crying out in pain, the snake begins to take on a new form. It grows hair, its teeth multiply, and it grows two more feet. I somehow pull a knife from my back pocket and stab it in the leg, tossing it down the stairs once more. But then I see that the snake is no longer a snake-- but a frail and whimpering puppy...its leg broken in half. I break into tears and rush to its aid. Because of the abuse I had just given it, the puppy turned away from me and tried to run up the stairs, whimpering with every movement. I scooped it up into my hands and cradled it back to life. (Somehow my child ended up safely upstairs...) The only conclusion I was able to make about the origin of this dream is how people view different forms of animal abuse. Some people think that killing animals for food is abusive-- and maybe it is. Others think that abusing domestic animals is a horrific event...and I agree with them. But what about the other animals we mindlessly kill all the time? The ants we squish in the house, the spiders we trap in jars to suffocate for entering our home, the snakes and possums we beat to death in our yards? Just because they have sharper teeth or venom we get to decide they don't deserve to live? I had never really thought about them this deeply before, but clearly I was moved in the dream because I broke out into tears after realizing I cared more for the wounded dog than the wounded snake. It was a closed-eyes eye-opening experience to say the least. Dream #2: Dreamscape City I'm at school with husband, in his classroom. His desks have all been pushed together so that his figurines all fit in the same area. Each type of figurine has been divided into areas, or townships-- the soldiers, the Old-School Action Figures, the Presidents, the Marvel Super-Heroes, the Villains, the Nintendo characters, and the DC Super-Heroes. For one reason or another, husband decides that the town can no longer get along and he motions to a disfigured and somehow plastic version of Stretch-Armstrong that, "It's time." Stretch, with one arm bent in a terrible ninety degree angle, picks up his dismembered leg, and moves into the Marvel region. He smashes the Hulk with his bent arm, engaging him into a fight. Because the two tower over so many other figurines, they naturally begin to involve everyone else. The regions break into war; explosions are seen; fires are started; figurines are screaming. Pretty soon the desks are covered in ashes, and smoke fills the air. I turn away sobbing, and the song "Let It Be" begins playing. I turn to husband with tears in my eyes and ask him how he could let that happen, and with a swift wave of his hand he tells me to, "Wait and see." A familiar yet unfamiliar song begins to play in the background as animated spears of asparagus begin to take the shape of a fence around the perimeter of the desks. New figurines begin to take form-- but this time, with the them of "Through the Ages". There is an area for the dinosaurs, extinct animals, evolving men, the Presidents of the United States, baseball teams, and even female role-models. When the song ends, I realize there are two things missing. Because I now know that there needs to be music for the magic to happen, I begin to sing "All You Need is Love" and a region full of heart-shaped Kirbys begins to grow. Then I see the Dinosaurs are missing one thing, and I break into "Yoshi's song" and soon enough an entire flock of Yoshis has appeared. I could not believe how beautifully the lands were created, and I could not believe how awfully the previous ones had been destroyed. Conclusion drawn? The Universe is an ever-changing and living being. Our world is constantly adapting to kill off the weak and promote the strong. Husband was able to spark an event that destroyed many regions of his figurine world; he was also able to reconstruct those worlds into better functioning environments. Bad things happen in the world everyday; people kill each other, women are raped, children are abandoned, and the list can go on forever. What I have tried to focus on lately is living in the present-- appreciating what I have been given by the Universe, both good and bad. This dream serves as a reminder to accept that circumstances change, and nothing is ever a constant except our will to positively perceive. Dreams can serve as a window to many different types of opportunities. A nightmare can foreshadow a bad day, or warn you of potential danger. A sad dream can remind you of what makes you truly happy. Whatever the dream may bring, it is always a good idea to pay attention and interpret all possible meanings. Do I think that dreams represent my subconscious thoughts? To some degree. Do they reveal hidden secrets about me? I guess I'll find out tonight... Currently Listening to: "Make Me Lose My Mind" by Disclosure ft. London Grammar Current Mood: Insomnia-tic

A New Perspective.

I was given an assignment for teaching and learning class the other day and I was told to read the Sunshine State Standards for my subject area and write a response to what I see. The Sunshine State Standards, in a nutshell, are just the hopes and dreams the state sets up for all teachers to follow as they form their curriculum. It's a long list of what a student should learn in a particular content area, in a few school years. The standards are broken down into Pre-K to 2nd grade; 3rd to 5th grade; 6th to 8th grade; 9th through 12th grade. And since Florida, the wonderfully education-driven state it is, decided to re-write the standards over a ten year period, has not yet re-written them for foreign language, I had the opportunity to read the older standards for my subject.

What I find interesting is just how much a student learning a foreign language is expected to know before entering 6th grade. There are things that I didn't learn until I myself traveled to Paris to study for four weeks! Some of the cultural integration and comparative knowledge about grammar and syntax styles just amazes me. I didn't even know schools offered foreign language before middle school, so it was only to my surprise to see what was crammed into six years of school for me.

The reason we were given this assignment was not just to read about the secondary schooling standards. It was to see what students were expected to know by the time they were handed over to us. We are to see what we're up against, and what we'd have to play catch up for. The purpose of this assignment was to see just how disparate some of our students will be upon entering our classroom simply because of a very not-simple issue; literacy. It's just now hitting me why it seemed so many of my peers struggled in French class in 6th and 7th grade. They weren't reading at a level that allowed them to be successful in English class, let alone any other content-area. The structures, grammatical comparisons, and overall use of mature vocabulary didn't make sense to them.

So now I'm left wondering, do I step into a classroom full of struggling students, knowing that the State will be on my back making sure I cover a certain number of standards, all the while my students struggle to read the instructions in English? Or do I step back and consider teaching Elementary level French, and have more time to help my students master the English language while learning a new one simultaneously? I hadn't considered teaching Elementary school since I gave up the notion that I could be as great of a kindergarten teacher as Mrs. Prewitt, but maybe literacy is where I could find my calling. Maybe I could make the difference I've wanted to make in a younger classroom, improving the literate abilities of a very impressionable group of kids.

Miss Rita from Lebanon

I have always hoped to find a neighborhood where everyone knew each other, where everyone genuinely cared for one another. Most of the time neighbors just make small talk, but every once in a while a glimpse of who someone really is comes out during one of those conversations.

Last night I met Rita, Susan and a couple of other neighbors while they were sitting by the pool enjoying a couple of drinks to let off steam from the hard work-week. Stepping out onto my patio, they greeted me warmly, surprising me a little bit with their shouting. "Hi neighbor!" And, "Yes! Hello neighbor how are you tonight?"

I had a towel on my head-- having just stepped out of a long shower, and wore only a black tee-shirt. When I realized I wasn't alone on this steamy August night, I made sure nothing was revealed from the bottom of my tee and replied with a warm, "Good evening! I'm just fine, how are you doing?"

And then came the small talk; the exchanging names, apartment locations, etc. I knew I would see them again so I didn't try my best to remember their buzzed and slurred names. They asked me about Merlin, and I told them he was my husky, staying for the night. Mentioning how much they all loved dogs, they promised mum was the word when it came to the Leasing office. And so our bonding began.

Leaving them to their evening, I couldn't help but smile as I stepped back into my apartment, the cool air conditioning sweeping over my face. Little did I know that the next afternoon I would see Susan and Miss Rita tanning by the pool as I taught Evan how to dive. More small talk was exchanged but the surface layers rubbed off and I found out Miss Rita and her family had been here for almost seven years and each member was brought over one by one by her brother, from Lebanon.

I've never known much about Lebanon and I felt humbled talking to a woman who I had assumed to be of Latin or Hispanic backgrounds. After she taught me about Lebanese children learning multiple languages from a very young age, Miss Rita asked me if I was American, American. Of course I said yes, and then that I was born in Saint Louis. A wide smile took over her face as Miss Rita giggled and excitedly said, "Oh my goodness a real American, that's so great!" I have never in all my life seen such a wonderful reaction when I've simply said I was born and raised in America.

It's probably hard for me to understand where she was coming from because I was born in the suburbs, never had to immigrate and I didn't grow up in an area with a ton of immigrants. Needless to say, I felt honored that Miss Rita was so excited to meet a born-and-raised-in-the-States American.

I'm not sure how much I will see Miss Rita, her sister Susan, and the rest of the family, but I can be sure that when I do, I'll say hi and ask how her niece is doing with her ping-pong competitions and if she's met any more "pure-blood" Americans.