Sweet Dreams Aren’t Made of This

Just over three weeks ago, I took a test that is one of only two or three significant hurdles standing between me and a job teaching high school (or middle school) English. The good news is, I feel extremely confident that I got almost every answer correct. The bad news is, I misunderstood something about the essay portion of the test, and that misunderstanding resulted in my not answering one of the two essay questions. It’s a big enough blunder that I may not get the minimum score necessary to obtain my teaching license this year. And that sucks—super, super badly. It’s all the worse that I performed so well on the rest of the test, because that means if I hadn’t been so stupid at the end, I would’ve been a shoo-in. Knowing that while also knowing that there’s a pretty good chance I won’t make it is terrible. Whether I meet the minimum requirement or not, it’s going to be close. Incredibly close. I will either barely make it, or barely not. Again, that’s because I performed so well on everything but the final essay question. Unfortunately, the last question is worth enough that I could be screwed. I’ll know as soon as the scores are posted, which should be any day now. Wish me luck.

Since I’m on the topic of dreams going to shit, I’ll mention that I’ve now dreamed two nights in a row about my new boss at work. They were stressful dreams in which my new boss was demanding a lot of me or making me accountable for tons of stupid crap. I no longer remember much about the dream from two nights ago, but I know I was trying to escape from somewhere. Literally. It was more like a school setting or something, I think, but the point is, I had to sneak out these doors in the middle of the night and run like crazy in the hopes of getting away. But I’d get caught and brought back. And whether she was my teacher or my boss or some other person of authority, the dream-character portrayed by my boss was the person from whom I was attempting to flee. What does that tell you? I don’t recall having nightmares like this about any of my former bosses. There are times I feel so desperate to leave my job, and yet I feel trapped. There isn’t anything promising that I can move into right now. The dreamer in me—no pun intended—says I’m meant for something more. And by “more,” I don’t mean something with more prestige or fame or money. I just mean more meaningful and more personally rewarding. I keep hoping it will happen if I just keep filling my life with the things that truly matter to me, that somehow some cool opportunity will just fall into my lap. I guess that’s naïve as hell, but if I knew a better way to follow my passion, I’d do it! I’m not against working my ass off for it. Problem is, I don’t even know where to start or how to proceed, other than doing what I’m already doing.

Depressing, isn’t it?