QMusings

This post is in honor of Ricardo, the author of Unloaded.

He recently wrote a post about a series of nightmares he’s been having. These vivid nightmares are one of the many unpleasant side effects of the medications he has to take.

Despite a dysfunctional family life and losing everything at one point in his life, Ricardo has not let his past define him.

He’s not letting his past give him excuses to not be the best he can be. He’s considerate and thoughtful, creative, intelligent and under the sarcasm, kind.

I’ll stop here, as Ricardo isn’t much into mushy stuff.

Anyway, one of his recurring nightmares is being stuck in high school.

From my point of view, any way you look at it, being stuck in high school is a nightmare. I think living in the present, being present for the present is what we should strive for.

So many of us live in the past or plan for the future and forget about the now. I admit that I’m not that great at Now. I’m much better at Later! But I’m working on it.

But back to nightmares. I don’t have them. I get the occasional bad dream but my definition of nightmare is a dream that terrifies me. I don’t find humiliation terrifying.

Which leads to high school. I would guess that many people have dreamt about high school. For most of us, it was a very vivid time in our lives.

My guess is that many of us have had dreams where we are back in high school. Occasionally, my subconscious wants to take me back, waaaay back to the days when Ms. Q was Miss Q.

Entering dreamscape….

I find myself back in high school. Sometimes I’m on the way and worried that I’ll be late.

What usually happens is that I find myself heading towards some unknown class and I realize that I’m the current me but somehow back in time at high school.

My first reaction is … “Sh*t! I’m back in high school! I wonder if I have a test today?”

I become worried that I’ll screw up my grades because the current me no longer knows how to conjugate the Spanish infinitive.

I don’t worry for long because the current me, the me that is this 42-year old world-traveling experienced woman, takes over.

Here’s where things get screwy. I know. Redundant when looking into the dreamscape of Ms. Q.

Phase 1: Elation

Hey…wait a minute! I may look 16 but I’m really 42! I’m not shy! I’m confident! I could have a lot of fun here…

Phase 2: Fantasy

Oh boy! I could actually date in high school! I mean I know everything about how to un-dorkify myself! Hoo-boy!

Phase 3: Reality

Wait a minute.

I might be able to date all these guys I liked in high school but I’m freakin’ 42! I may look 16 (which in Chinese years means I look 12) but dang, I really don’t want to date some 16 year old.

Uck.

What fun is that?

Dang.

Phase 4: Fantasy, Part Deux (I also had a semester of French)

But I can still have fun!

I can enjoy being confident!

Going to dances!

Creating a much different future…

[Poof!]

At this point I either switch to another dream or wake up.

I tend to be very practical and true-to-self in my dreams. I don’t have superpowers or look any better or worse in my dreams.

OK. I have had “my teeth are falling out” dreams. Doesn’t everyone? They must be related to “my hair is falling out in clumps” dreams.

Mostly, my dreams seem to be nothing more than subconscious scraps cobbled together to form a story.

When I think of my reaction to finding myself back in high school I think about who I am now.

High School Me would find Now Me fearless.

I think about the future me and wonder.

I know that Future Me is within Now Me.

Future Me is fearless.

Now Me has come a long way and my journey continues.

You can only return to high school in your dreams. That’s a good thing.

Life is about learning and growing. Life isn’t about being stuck in high school or anywhere else.

The above photo is from my high school yearbook. The Class of 1983.

I was shy, nerdy and generally a little bit off fashion-wise. Yet somehow I mustered up the courage to get a date to the prom. Yep, that’s me dancing in the above photo. That would be the photo on the right.

I didn’t join clubs or participate in sports. It’s amazing that a photo of me at the prom made it into the yearbook.

The couple on the left are dressed in the fashion of the day - the woman in stiff taffeta. Puffed off-the-shoulder sleeves was the style of the day. Her date was wearing a modern (for the day) tux.

My date, a college junior, was having fun and wearing a full-blown tuxedo with tails. The entire event was probably a bit surreal for him. He went all out with a cane and white gloves.

I was wearing a spaghetti-strapped royal blue silky vaguely Grecian sheath.

Recall that “Dynasty” was the fashion show of the era.

Did it matter to me that I was no Joan Collins? Sure. I was Miss Q. I was 18 years old.

Now I’m Ms. Q.

Ms. Q is who I want to be.

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