I’m going to tell you about a funny dream I had last night. It illustrates so well who I am as a person.
I’m racing around a college campus, with an infant in my arms. A darling baby girl, and she’s maybe four or five weeks old. She’s tiny, but not in an unhealthy way, she’s just a petite baby. She has the cutest little face and everyone stops me to tell me how pretty she is. I’m so thankful for the kindness but I feel like every stop is putting me further behind. I race from classroom to classroom to get assignments from my professors. It’s my first time at college. I enrolled late and started late. I’m already a week behind.
I have no idea what I’m going to college for but it feels so important. I don’t want to put the baby in daycare, so I’m begging the school to let me work virtually. Everyone makes it clear she cannot be in class with me.
I walk into one professor’s class to get my work. His name is Mike and he commends me for doing something with my life – something great. I beam at the accolade – I want to do something great with my life. He speaks right to the heart of who I am, and he doesn’t even know me.
I race to the cafeteria, with a mess of papers and assignments and a binder and a backpack. I want to be organized, but I’m struggling with that. I’m trying to feed my baby. My mom is there. She’s telling me I can’t write books, go to school, and raise this infant, all as I pour over my notes for the next novel. I am crushed by her seriousness and I feel as though she is being cruel.
A man, akin to a principle (although somewhere in my mind, I kind of think college doesn’t have a principle exactly) approaches our table. He is excited for me and trying to help me get all my work from my professors, since I’m a week behind and it’s my first day. He calls Mike and is telling him what we need and I’m shaking my head. “I’ve been to Mike’s office!”
“Assistant DA Mike? How did you like him? He can help you get far. That man is brilliant!” This principle-ish man says to me. Assistant DA Mike? I’m looking at my classes. Some law, some medicine, some psychology. I cannot make sense of the work I have to do. My mom is still trying to help me organize, but she’s still telling me I can’t do all of the things I’m trying to do.
This principle man tells me he is going to send a guidance counselor over to help me organize everything. I tell him thank you. He tells me I can do anything I put my mind to.
There was a little more, like the guidance counselor showing up. But it’s fuzzy now that my day is moving full steam ahead.
But it was so… me. Trying to do everything. Always feeling behind. Wanting to be organized but struggling with it. Trying to let someone help me, but ignoring their words of caution. Focusing on the accolades, the you can do it sentiments.
As I sat at my calendar, creating a publishing schedule, in awe that I get to make a publishing schedule, I was doing it again. I wanted to fit more on the calendar. I’m afraid I won’t have time to write all the books I have ideas for.
Writing is finally the outlet for all those things I ever wanted to do. I can be anything when I’m writing. I can have any career. Go anywhere. See anything. It is my window to the world and I kick myself for taking so long to get serious. And I celebrate that I figured it out before my life was over.
Have you had any dreams that were just… you? I want to hear about them in the comments below!
Until next time,
Regina Walker 