Grumpy Blogs about life, dreams and Work

9/27/07 – Yuppy Town
Dream. I had moved back to my Father and step mothers house. I was going back to high school with all my knowledge and experience of being 38, yet, I was only 17 in the dream. The bus pulled up outside and my brother, sister and I scrambled to finish getting dressed. I quickly tried on three different outfits. For some reason I was fretting about having just the right combination of colors and hipster style, but not too much or too little. I wanted to look stylish enough for the women, well girls and tough enough so the men, the boys did not feel they could pick on me. Though this seems like it should be a nightmare, I was excited to go back. In real life, I dropped out of school my senior year after I passed the California High School Equivalency Test. Basically, upon passing, the State of California said my education and knowledge was in the upper 50% of the graduating class that year. I took it in October when I realized I would not pass my senior year because of ditching to many days and having the wrong attitude about it all. The test no longer exists. As soon as I learned I passed, I stopped going to school. When I turned 18, I went back and officially signed myself out. I was already in the throes of a disastrous relationship which would soon cripple my psyche further than it already was. Then, I was excited to be free from the tyranny of being a looser in high school. Then, I was free to be a looser in the great big world. In the dream I was eager to go back and finish what I left off. I wanted to go the prom. I wanted to graduate with all the pomp and circumstance, the gown and the hat and the class ring. I’ve learned that there are important rituals in life, as banal as they might be, and once they pass, you can never get them back. In real life, that opportunity was literally a life time ago. I regret not being better adjusted as a human being to cope with the social politics of captive teenagers. Though, there is nothing I could have done about my parents bad parenting, or poverty, I could have had a different opinion of myself, and the world. Or, maybe not. Anyway, I still regret it and in the dream I looked forward to going back and setting some thing right in my life.

Once off the bus, I headed into the cafeteria. I had no cash, and needed an ATM so I could buy breakfast. I found one at the back of the room. As I set my book bag down one of the Jocks started mocking my shoes.

“Look at that James Dean wannabe and his shoes.”

I tried to ignore him as I looked at my shoes. They were classic converse high tops, black and slightly dirty on the white rubber tips. So much for dressing with attention to detail to avoid a fight. The jocks were laughing and the leader kept making remarks. In real life I was a small teenager who did not hit puberty until after high school. In the dream, I was my 6’2 adult self. I approached the jocks table. They were ultra un-intimidated. What was one tall looser compared to their mighty, popular, god-like selves?

“You don’t like my shoes?” I ask the leader.

“You don’t like my shoes?” He asked with a laugh to his team. He looked back to me and said with a sternness that threatened violence., “No.” He didn’t bother to stand. What was a gutsy looser going to do?

I had already made up my mind. High school was like prison and you had to set the tone and demand respect from the first day. I picked up his un-opened Pepsi can and smashed it into his face repeatedly. Bloody, shocked and stunned he stood, taller than me. I hit him in the jaw as hard as I could with my elbow, which is much stronger than a fist. A Palestinian taught me that. His jaw broke and slipped out of place as he collapsed. His friends sat shocked. It all happened too quickly to react. They started to rise. I slammed the bloody Pepsi can down on the table and said to them. “Do you want to meet my sponsor too?” They all just sat stunned. I turned and walked away. A crowd gathered and someone mentioned the sponsor line. Some in the crowd laughed. I trembled with rage and adrenalin. That was probably not the best way to start my first day back in High School. The crowd trembled and warbled into blackness. I woke.