English Teacher

I am sleeping on a bed of pure white cotton sheets. It is smoldering and humid, and I am barely clothed. I wake in a damp sweat to hear the buzzing of the window fan, and see the neon red of the digital clock striking one in the morning. I can feel the fan blowing hot air on my legs, and I decide to get a drink of water. As I walk to the bathroom, I pass by the night light in the hall. I walk into the bathroom, locking the door behind me. The tile in the bathroom is so cold I want to lie down on it, but instead I stand on it for several minutes as the water pours down the drain. I fill a plastic cup with water, and even after running it, the water is still warm. I silently sip from my cup, unsatisfied, but as I do, hear the faint sound of a baby crying. I freeze knowing I am alone. When I open the bathroom door, the night light is out, and the sound of the crying infant is louder and closer. I start to realize that the sounds are coming from downstairs, and I slowly creep down the steps forgetting about how hot it is. Once descended, I can hear the crying is coming from the front of the house. Without thinking I run to the dark wooden door and thrust it open, revealing a car seat facing away from me.

Only a screen door separates me from the baby now, and yet it stops crying in the instant I open my door. I stand there for a moment, enjoying the silence while a million thoughts circulate inside my head. The baby is in a yellow car seat with white plastic exterior, and I wonder if it is a boy or girl. Thoughts continue to spin and swirl like racing cars around a track. I wonder who the baby is, who it belongs to, where it came from. Finally, I stop daydreaming and realize this infant has been in the sweltering summer night, and rather than stand there I should take the baby in. But I can not. There is something about the baby's silence that terrifies me. I know I should call the cops. I push through my fear, and open the screen door, carefully as to not touch the car seat. I try to peak over the car seat, but for some reason my eyes do not allow me to see the child. I am forced to walk around and view the baby. I take in a deep breath, squeeze my eyes shut as if they had been plastered closed. Finally, I saunter around the seat, and open my eyes to view the child. Yet, when I open my eyes, I find there is no infant in the seat, but rather a yellow nursing blanket, and a pacifier. I laugh at myself for being so scared, and casually look around to see if there is anyone around. Unexpectedly, I begin to hear the sound of the baby crying, sharply, and coming directly from the chair. Terrified, I just stand there and watch as the blanket and pacifier begin to move.

I enjoyed our discussion on Freud, since it gave me a clearer understanding of his theory. I have never studied Freud, but my knowledge of him has expanded, and the dream blogs have taken on a more intimate meaning. I feel more comfortable finding examples of his strengths and weaknesses from our exercise in class. I also liked using actual student work to clarify these new concepts. Having the story which I read, #1, made me feel closer to the student’s work, and also interested me to analyze my own dreams in this new way.
I think it was important that we discussed the anonymity of our dreams as a class. Considering that we will be spending the next year working and learning as a group, it is vital to know and understand our class view of the dream blogs. I appreciate that our dreams, which are intimate expressions of who we are, can be both shared, but also respected by anonymity.
I was also glad we were able to see the effectiveness of music in handling dreams. It was extremely interesting to come to the realization that society has tried to recreate a sense of “dreams” in music. This is fascinating, since music is rarely a prominent factor in our actually dreams, and yet somehow the creations of musicians and artists can produce the illusions of dreaming. Using different media solidified our understanding of what makes up a dream. I particularly found “Bob Dylan’s 115th Dream” to be most dreamlike in its content, since the disconnected images generally resemble my own dreams.
It is equally interesting that change in tempo, as well as the whimsical section of the ringmaster in "Lady in the Dark" reminds us of dreams. I wonder how the association between such melody and dreams was established, and what process musicians used to imagine what “dream-like” music would sound like. I think added music, and film to the class is a great way to enhance our study of dreams.