After waking up early one morning this summer, I went to the bathroom and thought about getting up and starting my day. The bed was still there, though, when I returned inviting me back. I crawled in again and a convoluted dream began.
In the dream, I was teaching in a school unfamiliar to me. There, I noticed that particular school smell. The whiff of paper, books, children’s sweat, and cleaning solutions made me feel at home. The sound of children’s voices in the background and the knocking of chairs against the desks welcomed me. I recognized some of the students and parents from my many years of teaching, and I had a sense that I knew them. It was an extraordinary day at school as the PTA(parents' organization) was having a celebration and was delivering gifts to all the students in their homerooms. When they came into my classroom to present the gifts, I was in the middle of a lesson. The students were quiet, well-behaved, and on task. I felt in control and competent. Many visitors were there that day, wandering around and observing. They were older educators who seemed ethereal, almost like angels, familiar to me. As they walked around and interacted with the students, I felt the essence of who they were: teachers from my past who had influenced me over the years, but their names escaped me.
The gifts the PTA delivered were quite generous. Each one received a brand-new suitcase made of sparkly plastic in an array of bright colors and styles. Quite fancy! Each child was so excited to receive one. There was no fighting or arguing about the one they got. I noticed that in the other classrooms and grade levels, the students had received furniture and even an electric fountain. One of the parents asked me if I wanted a fountain for my house as they had an extra one. “Beautiful.”—I told her, “I will think about it...”
I began to get the students settled again. I wanted to use the suitcases as a part of a lesson, so I had the students lie down on the carpeted floor and close their eyes. I put on some relaxing music and began a visualization exercise as a “pre-writing” activity. I began asking them questions about a future trip they might take.
“Close your eyes and imagine that you are about to embark on a long journey—
Where are you planning to go?
Who will be with you as you travel?
What will you place in your new suitcase? Why did you choose what you did?
What do you plan to do when you arrive?
Will you be somewhere warm or cold?
Do you have everything you need to do all the things you want to do?
Did you pack enough clothing for warmth, or perhaps you’ll need a swimsuit and a few
t-shirts for the heat? Sunscreen—goggles—flip flops?
Did you pack a good book to read or your tablet to play a game?
Do you want to bring a notebook or colors to draw or paint while you’re there?
Do you have a camera or a phone to take pictures? “
As the children continued to relax on the floor, the door to my classroom opened, and in walked my mom—dressed in crisp white slacks, a pale pink blazer with a white top underneath. She was wearing pearls and her clip-on matching earrings. Her white hair was styled short, and her blue eyes sparkled as she looked up and smiled at me, vibrant, alive.
She didn’t approach me but turned and smiled at the class. She walked forward towards one of my angel helpers. They looked at each other like long-lost friends. They embraced each other, and at that moment, I turned back to my teaching. I sensed that I needed to get back to my students and began to move ahead with my lesson. When I turned around again, the angels were gone. Mom was gone too.
Mom passed away almost three years ago and it’s been a long time since I’ve seen her in a dream. She was so present there. I felt she had been observing me in my job as a teacher. She was a teacher herself for many years. Even though I am retired now, the teacher instincts loom large in my life. She and I always shared the same passion for education. She looked so good in the dream, confident, walking, loving. I felt the warmth of her presence as I woke up. It was as weird and wild as dreams can be, but I’m glad she came to visit me that morning.
I’m not sure when this note was written to me, but I found it tucked in a journal the day after I’d had this dream. (Enclosed with the note were some sunshine stickers)
Dearest Gail,
It’s almost 10:00 and I haven’t had my cereal, but I’ve had the enclosed things sitting on my table by my coffee and decided to drop you a line—Perhaps you can use the stickers at school for a little sunshine for your students.
It’s been a busy week but a good one. It’s good to keep busy.
Love you so much!
Mom
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