I had a dream...

I had a most interesting dream last night. I awoke from it feeling... happy. Relaxed. And I found a new perspective as I entered my classroom this morning. I was able to tap into a well of patience that I thought had dried up in the heat of summer. Let me try to describe it, and we'll see if it makes sense.

I'm in a house. It's day time, the sun is shining brightly. It has the look and feel of something right out of a Mexican novela. I actually start not inside but essentially in the backyard. On my right is what looks like a homeless person's ragtag improvised shelter. I don't see anyone there, but I can sense that someone lives there who's not too well off. I somehow can tell because, well, it's made of twigs and grass, like a hut on Survivor, and I can see muddy footprints where its inhabitant has come and gone. I'm a little disgusted by it, a little afraid. It's in stark contrast to the rest of the yard which is neatly manicured, with tall, lush grass, framed by the pristine walls of the house.

I step gingerly by, feeling that I'm really not supposed to be here, but continuing on to explore nonetheless, and I come across K., my former student with Down syndrome. She's smiling, very happy to see me, and I'm happy to see her. It's not awkward at all. She's going about her business on some kind of patio. I move on and enter the house itself. At this point, I feel like I'm really trespassing. I'm inside this home that's not my own, but I get the feeling that if I just walk resolutely and with confidence through the rooms, no one will question my being there. So that's what I do - I quickly walk through room after room, usually inhabited by just one solitary person, always Latino. I don't stop to talk, I don't make eye contact. They don't even seem to notice me - my plan is working. I just act like I'm supposed to be there, continuing on through the house with mock confidence. Finally, I come to a room with a table where an old woman is sitting, eating. On this table is an object, a small glass sphere on a little pedestal. On top of this sphere is a button, and I'm compelled to push it. When I do, a magical, colorful, gravity defying liquid begins to swirl into the sphere. Somehow I know that this is a very good thing - it's creating harmony, it's bringing people together, it's mixing people in a way that will lead to happiness (far out, I know). With each push I'm creating fantastic, wonderful changes. So I keep pushing the button, and inside the sphere the liquid, which is a shimmering, sparkling blue, continues to grow and eventually takes the shape of a gently twisted column. The woman at the table, though she still doesn't really seem to notice me, seems pleased.

At this point, I notice three of my former students sitting on barstools nearby. They're smiling at me, and they say, "We love you, Mr. Evans!" Somehow I know that everything is better now - I have a feeling of euphoria. I tell my former student J., with some sense of urgency, suddenly aware that all of this is a dream, "Remember this! Try and remember this!" I want her to remember, so that in case I don't, she can remind me.

So what does it all mean? Dreams are like horoscopes - you can see in them what you want to see. But I think that this dream is very much related to all the stress I've been going through with being accused of racism by a parent (see Deflating below) and the feelings of betrayal and resentment it has evoked. It may be a metaphor for how I feel working in a Latino community - I'm an outsider with the best of intentions, and I want to be accepted. I want to be appreciated and loved. I want to feel like I'm home.