As I Lay Me Down to Sleep

I've been having some upsetting recurring dreams lately. Interspersed with some new stress-dreams, last night I had a nightmare that has officially plagued me since 2003: the one where it turns out that there was this class I signed up for and never attended, and never remembered to drop, and thus failed, and thus my college diploma is revoked.

This dream definitely has staying power. (In fact, since 2007, there's even a new variation, less frequent but still scary, where there's this class I signed up for and never attended ,and never remembered to drop, and thus failed, and thus my graduate degree is revoked.)

It's incredibly vivid: I'm sitting there on the final day of classes, and while everyone around me is giddy with excitement, talking about graduation and the new jobs that await them and all of the golden roads ahead, a cold feeling of fear grips my gut and spreads slowly through the rest of my body as I realize: Oh no, oh no no no, that American Studies class with Professor W*... I registered for it, but I don't remember going to a single freaking class...

Hoping I can slip in on that day and somehow Professor W will not have noticed my entire semester of absences, I go racing around, trying to find the classroom. I'm looking for the booklets that list all the classes and their locations, but of course, so late in the term, they're nowhere to be found. I run throughout the humanities quad, finally locating the classroom just as Professor W is passing out the final. I know none of the material on the test, and the teacher's look tells me he knows I haven't been present - but now I have to take the final, though it's an exercise in humiliation and terror.

Everything is clear up until that point, and then it gets fuzzy: no more crisp images, just an overwhelming sense of failure, disappointment in myself, a crippling sensation of fear that the mask has fallen, I haven't done as well as everyone thought, I am now exposed.

I hate this dream. It always lingers, always touches a deep nerve. I think it's because it touches on so many fears: the fear of failure, the fear of overlooking something, the fear of judgment, the fear of loss... the fear of somehow losing my very intelligence, my very self.

Why are we tormented by our own minds? I know I'm not the only one. Why must these dreams be recurring? Can we ever get over the fears they represent? If we get rid of these fears in our waking lives, will they also be put to rest in our sleeping hours?

For now, I have plenty of time to ponder these questions as I lay awake at night. I'm sure I'll be sleeping better soon. But for now, I'm hiding my diplomas, so no one can take them. And if I get a postcard from Professor W this week, I just might have a heart attack.**


*It's always Professor W. I don't know why. Likely because he was one of the most intimidating and challenging of my undergraduate professors; he really pushed me to be a better writer and more critical thinker; he's one of only two professors with whom I've stayed in touch post-college; AND, the man knows more about more topics than seems humanly possible. Which is a terrifying, terrifying quality in a person.

** Yes, he really does send me the occasional postcard.