It is said that many of us, no matter how far into adulthood we get, continue to have those dreams where you're back at school and you can't find any of your classrooms, or you have a test but don't remember going to any classes or reading any of the material, or you can't find your locker and you're late to class, or variations on that theme.
There is also "The Actor's Nightmare" where you're supposed to go on stage in one minute but you don't remember any of your lines, can't recall having been at any rehearsals, or don't even know what play you're supposed to be in. (Brilliantly rendered in a one-act version, btw, by Christopher Durang. I did that one in high school. Ben Lang may never forgive me for actually taking his pants away during a dress rehearsal in class...)
As for me, being in the travel industry, I get the "I have to be at the airport in 30 minutes and the car is here and I haven't packed and I don't know where my passport and tickets are..." variation on the anxiety dreams. If you have ever seen Gone With The Wind, and recall Prissy's "packing" before they evacuate Atlanta, well, you get the idea. That's the one that usually has me waking up in a cold sweat.
Here's the thing: usually, before I start a new job, I get bombarded with these types of dreams -- especially when a move is involved (ohmigawsh, the packers are here and I haven't a clue what's supposed to go where!) This time around, though, almost no anxiety dreams.
The last major outbound international move was four years ago, when hubby and I left North America for Baltic Europe. I was married less than a year. My grandmother, to whom I was very close, had just died after a lengthy and agonizing struggle with Alzheimers. My cat had just had a cancer scare. I was going to a job with unprecedented levels of responsibility for me. My mental state at the time was such that I would have aspired to catatonia. My dear brother, who lived nearby and was between jobs at the time, came over to keep me calm while the movers went about their business. He considered feeding me Xanax and Valium cocktails washed down with vodka tonics. Seriously, I was pretty close to a nervous breakdown.
This time around, while upsetting, was much much better. No "Prissy-packing" panic dreams. No pharmacists on speed-dial, no nail-biting/wailing/gnashing teeth, no family restraining me from jumping off the roof. Even my boss told me on my last day in the office, "You are remarkably calm." Honestly, I couldn't have told him whether it was because I have matured over the last four years, or whether I was just so deeply in denial that nothing registered.
We got to our new island home six days ago. Since then, I've had one school dream: I was walking around my old high school, trying to find my locker, and realized that I didn't remember the combination. Then I found it and the door was unlocked and there was nothing in there anyway. Last night in my dreams, I was working a production of Les Miserables. We'd been working hard, it was opening night, and somehow we realized that even though we'd been rehearsing multiple roles, we actually hadn't cast someone in one of the major parts. So I stepped up to fill in. I knew I wasn't the best singer, and I didn't have all of the lines down solidly, but the show must go on and this was the best I could do and they could all just deal with it. And I got up there, played the part, and didn't care whether I made an ass of myself or not, I was having fun and no one threw any tomatoes.
So, am I actually getting better at this business, or am I -- dare I say it -- growing up? Or have I just gotten to the point where other people's definitions of performance and accomplishment are not that important to me?
Maybe that's the definition of being grown-up?