I am a very vivid dreamer. I can remember a lot of detail from my dreams as well...at least for the first half hour after I rise in the morning. I don't put much importance on them...usually they're inspired, I think, by random things or thoughts that happen during the day.
I've had a lot of The Past hitting me in the face lately. Coming to terms with the failure I've been in certain family situations. Making contact with old childhood friends. Reconnecting with a pen pal I'd begun writing to when I was 14 and losing contact with her around 30 years ago. Trying to find closure to the life of a friend I've had since I was 7 years old...I don't know if she's become too ill to communicate any more, or if she's passed away. Her daughter hasn't let me know one way or another.
So that brings me to the strange dream I had the other nite. I dreamt it was the last day of high school. Everyone had passed their finals except me. One of my teachers sat down with me, an old Home Economics teacher, and told me I'd failed to turn in even one assignment in every class I'd had as a Senior. I couldn't graduate because my Senior year more or less hadn't existed in a paper-sense way. I cried...oh, how I cried! But I knew what she said was true so I decided to take one more walk down the hallways before I left. As I did, I can't tell you how many people from my past I walked by...some lounging at their lockers with books cradled in their arms, talking to friends. Some walking or running down the halls towards me from the other direction. But not only were they kids I'd known in high school...they were kids from my childhood, friends from my early jobs outside of school after I'd graduated. They all paused in what they were doing or waved at me as they passed by, wishing me good luck, telling me good bye. Not one of them had aged from the last time I'd seen them. Little boys, gangly teens, lovely young women. Handsome young men. I got the sense they were all in a hurry to close things down, to move on in to their futures. Every one of them who was moving was moving in the opposite direction I was. It was very disconcerting.
So what does this mean? That I hold on to the past too much and need to move on? That who I knew then, where I lived then, is past history? It doesn't necessarily need to be dwelled upon, it doesn't necessarily need to be revisited? I would say that is true if all of my reconnections had been negative. But connecting with Robin, my pen pal from long ago, has been like picking up where we left off when we were young mothers in our mid-20's. It was so wonderful catching up with an old neighborhood friend, too.
But I have been guilty of focusing in on the happy years of my early youth. Moreso than a lot of people, I think. My life has been made up of 3 definite compartments, at least in my eyes and my memories. That's how I describe them to myself, anyway. My early years of happy childhood, my miserable and horribly unhappy teen years, and the wonderful life I've had with Dear Hubby for the past 36 years. I've come to realize no matter how much I go back in time, no matter how much I think about it, I can never change a thing. I think I've come to terms with it, too. I was fortunate to be blessed with a happy little girlhood. The miserable middle years were a great learning time for me...many valuable life lessons that have probably been the ground work, the foundation, upon which I've been able to build the happy years I've had as a wife and mother. "You can't go home again"...oh, but how the paths you've followed, the decisions you've made, can pave a walkway to a much better life.