Dreams and The Proclaimers

I had a terrible dream last night.

My childhood nightmares used to be of vampires and colourful monsters, but now that I'm older my nightmares have become a little more sophisticated.

I dreamt that I was teaching in Anglican High again, and teaching one of the worst classes in a lecture theatre. I was ill-prepared for the class and went in confident that I could bluff my way through. I tried to expand a simple lesson into a two-hour long lesson, but the students started whispering and walking around. I had to run from seat to seat yelling at them, and in the end I yelled at the whole class, "I've prepared so hard for your lesson! You should listen to me and not be so disrespectful. Do you have any idea how hard the teacher works for you? It's not even for my benefit, it's for yours!"

In my dream I looked into their eyes and I could see that they knew I hadn't prepared an iota, and they could see that I was just lying. And they continued on talking, and I walked out of the class thinking of what my mum had told me, "If the students are noisy it's our fault, not theirs. You've got to prepare enough to keep them entertained." And I felt rotten.

So in my first dream the bad part was my telling a lie consciously, knowingly. And there's a second part to the dream that is even worse.

Apparently, I'd got cocaine from one of my friends and was smoking it (?!) before school started. Then the police came to our school for a routine drugs check complete with dogs. The dog went crazy when he sniffed my backpack and Hao Hwa's (?!) backpack, probably because my bag was next to his. I was taken into a room where I insisted I wasn't taking cocaine and that the dog must have made a mistake. I was let off after having to write a letter declaring the veracity of what I'd said.

I lied consciously again, and inside I felt rotten.

Imagine a whole dream about lying. Twice.

Does this mean anything perhaps, that I'm too caught up with appearances when I should be more concerned with what is in the heart, with reality?

On a happier note, I left my laptop playing "I'm Gonna Be" the entire night, and I realised why I like the song so much, besides the lovely drumbeat. The beeoootifool accents of the singers do it for me. They're called The Proclaimers, and they're from - guess where - Scotland. No wonder I can't stop listening. Now I'm obsessed with trying to sing, "Just to be the mahn who warlks a thiousahnd me-iles to fall diown at yo' door"...