I was travelling with Mom, Garth and the cats, and we kept talking about getting there on time. We were going to see a show at the Comedy and Magic Club. Garth was helping me get the cats inside their crates, while we were standing outside the truck (like a Honda-CRV kind of truck), in the parking lot of a mini-mall. Garth tried a few times, without success. He said with a sigh, "Let me go ask how to do it again," and ran inside the building to ask his teacher. He came back out, tried once, and Homer splayed his feet wide apart so that Garth couldn't get him in. Garth was really frustrated at this point, and I asked him, "Would you like me try it instead?"

"Yeah, please," Garth said.

So I tried, and explained what I was doing and why as we went along. It was funny because one of the crates didn't have a door and that was the one we wanted Patches in, because we said, "Homer definitely wouldn't stay put!" Dreams always have that slight element of nonsense, don't they?

Garth thanked me for explaining my cat-crating technique in a nice way, and said, "You know, when I went in to ask Mrs. P. for help, she just yelled at me. She kept saying, 'Well you're doing it WRONG. If you just paid attention and tried doing it RIGHT for a change, you'd probably get it. So just go do it!'"

"She said that to you?"

"Yeah."

"That woman is EVIL!" I erupted in rage. "She is evil incarnate, I am telling you!!!"

At this point, Mom returned from wherever she had been shopping and we all got in the truck. I was fuming as I began to drive away and I said, "I can't believe Mrs. P. is actually teaching here and we got to see her after all this time. God, wouldn't it be funny if I just went in there and told her? Told her everything?"

We all chuckled a little and Mom and Garth said, "Yeah."

I hit the brake. "I'm going to do it! I'm going to go talk to her!"

I pulled the truck over to the curb, left it running, jumped out and ran over to the mini-mall. I was so filled with adrenaline, I passed the door, had to backtrack, and then walked right in with all the determination one woman could possibly muster.

"Mrs. Pendegraff?" I asked.

"Yes?" She looked up at me, looking different than she had. I knew I must look different too. It had been many years.

"This is Meghan D," I said (using my maiden name).

"Oh hi!" she said, in a friendly tone.

My tone was deadly serious. "Did you just yell at my brother that he was doing everything wrong?"

"Well Meghan, I think the most important thing is to understand that your brother is grown up now. And he's become a fine, smart man."

"Oh, I KNOW. I LOVE him," I said, placing my hand on my heart, disgusted that she'd think I didn't appreciate him.

She just smiled at me. Then she turned to go back to her work.

"Mrs. Pendegraff," I said, and she turned back around. I continued. "The reason you yelling at my brother struck such a chord with me is that when you co-taught my class..." I paused as I fought my throat's desire to choke up. "When you were my teacher, and I was struggling with OCD, I was finishing an assignment after class, and another teacher or parent came by and asked why I was there." (At this point I saw Joe peeking in through the window. He must have been travelling with us, too, and waiting for me. I suddenly had to fight to stay in my dream - my body seemed to want to wake up at the thought of such confrontation, and with an audience at that! The colors became less vivid, but I was definitely still in the dream.) My voice was steady and determined as I continued, "And you told them I was the 'slow student.' And Mrs. Pendegraff, that really upset me! That has stayed with me all this time. As a teacher, it's your responsibility to watch how you speak to your students, because even though teachers aren't paid what they should be, they are HIGHLY respected by their students. And your words have a LONG lasting effect. So, please, be a steward of your students' feelings and watch what you say and how you say it."

She'd listened to me the entire time, looking me right in the eyes, her face clear. As I slipped out of my dream to a state of full waking, I half-dreamed she'd leaned in to hug me. But I was gone.

Wow. I feel amazing after that dream! I feel like that just really happened!! They say that the subconscious doesn't know the difference between thoughts/dreams and reality, so even things you imagine, your body interprets as real (so be careful, all you negative day-dreamers, your body is listening.) I can see now how that might be true - I'm in a wonderful and empowered mood!

And for those wondering, yes, the above story about what happened while I was in her class is 100% true. I was in second grade. She was a very demanding student-teacher, and I had just begun struggling with an anxiety disorder (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder). It was a bad mix, and I hated her for a long time. When I was in third grade, a new school was built in our district, and we had to move to it, as well as many other students and some of the teachers. When Garth was in third grade, Mrs. P. was a teacher, no longer student-teaching, and he became her student too. My mom laid into her when she saw her again, told her I'd had to go to therapy during the summer after such a stressful year, stress she'd contributed to (on more than just the one occasion noted above). From what I remember, Mrs. P. treated Garth pretty nice.

I know it was just a dream, but I often run from confrontation even in my dreams. It's nice to see that change. I mean, if I had the chudspa to stand up for my family and myself with that kind of conviction in a dream, then maybe I can be that way in real life, too. Just something to think about.