I Have A Dream…

Now I’m no Martin Luther King. And my dream isn’t, like, lofty and worldly. But I do have a dream — over and over and over again.  I want to share it with you to see if, A, you have had similar dreams; and B, you think I have issues and need counseling.

Here it is:

So I’m back in high school (in my dream it’s not literally, visually, my alma mater, Porterville High).  But I’m in high school. And the school year is coming to an end soon. Finals are coming up. I realize that I have rarely been in attendance. (Where I’ve been, I have no idea.) And when I do go to class, I get lost and confused and can’t find any of the classrooms. And when I finally do make it to class, nobody knows who I am.


thCAYCBUDZ {Me, being confused}

Lost and Confused Signpost

My Algebra II (my most hated, most challenging subject) teacher is an older, sweet lady (much like Mrs. Gay, my Latin teacher in real life). So I ask to have a meeting with her after class. I sorta beg her for help. She gives me a worksheet to study. I thank her profusely and go out to the quad to look at it. It’s a bunch of fancy-ass numbers and signs that mean absolutely nothing to me. I’m freaking out, feeling guilty, worthless, and as low as pond scum.

pond scum

{Pond scum}

Then I find my way, finally, to my next-period class: History. And there sits Ann D., my friend, who is popular, genuinely sweet, and darling. And  smart. The male teacher is quizzing us. And of course I’m clueless. He asks a question about… I dunno, some faraway place, where there was some kind of a war. And of course Ann D. raises her hand and vomits out an articulate, flawless, perfect answer. And of course she looked 1975-gorgeous in doing so.

“Very, very, very good answer, Ann!” says the teacher.


And then —  thank you, God — the bell rings. It’s time to go to my locker. But… I can’t find it. Who do I run into but Ann D.?  She, of course, knows where my locker is, and directs me to the correct row and level. But…then I can’t remember (if I ever knew it) the combination. I swear I was never given the combination.


{Lockers, circa 1975}

So I angrily, humiliatingly,  haul myself to the office.  (And in my recurring dream, it’s always rainy and muddy in the office.)  The school secretary (who looks exactly like my kids’ real-life elementary school secretary) asks me what I need. I lie and tell her I had been using my friend’s locker all semester, and that I forgot my combination. She reluctantly, quasi-meanly looks it up and gives it to me.

I rush back to my locker, hurriedly trying to open my seldom-touched-this-quarter locker. But the second — aka really tardy —  bell rings. (Remember those?) I say, “S%*t! Forget it!” to myself, slam the locker shut, and leave. I just leave! I just leave…


And that’s the end of my dream. Anti-climactic, huh?  I’m sorry (for you) that it doesn’t have some fantastical, profound ending.


But here’s where I need your help. Please. Inquiring minds (mine!) need to know.

  • Have you ever had a similar dream?
  • Do I have early-onset Alzheimer’s?
  • Am I a Pathological Procrastinator?
  • Am I a Pathological Liar?
  • As a way to stave off menopause, am I futilely trying to relive my high school days?
  • Do I need to confront my demons, i.e. Algebra II, head-on?
  • Do I need to deal with my Jealousy Issues, i.e. Ann D., as soon as possible?
  • Am I a Quitter?

Or…all of the above? Yikes!





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About Me

It's true! Despite playing defense virtually all my life against the onslaught of this sometimes-ugly aging process, it...has...arrived! I naively thought I would escape cellulite (the Cottage Cheese) and crow's feet (the Crepe Paper). But I didn't! And why didn't anyone tell me about this emotional roller-coaster that comes with being an Empty-Nester?! My name is Jodie Barringer Myers. I'm a 54-year-old Friday/chardonnay/ hydrangea-loving wife/mom/court reporter living in Sacramento (Gold River!), California. Writing is cathartic for me. And because I look to find humor and humility among the rubble that is my now very peri-menopausal self, I'm hopeful that you will laugh, cry, learn, enjoy and, most of all, relate to what I have to say. After all, we're all in this together, right?

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