>Once or twice a month (or more, depending on my anxiety level, so generally more), I have hyper-realistic dreams about failing school or being involved with people who I have known since my elementary school days. Two night ago, I dreamed that I kept missing the bus because I left my backpack at Target, where I stopped to look at some clothes before school. This was significantly less intense than my usual school-anxiety dreams, which tend to center around me not going to a specific class (German, Spanish, or more recently, math) for the entire semester and then panicking as finals approach because I am so far behind that I don't even remember where the fucking classroom is. I can't explain how I ever let it get so far, and I generally wake up in a sweaty state of dread which takes me the better portion of the day to overcome.
The other intense dreams that occur when I go to bed feeling apprehensive about something involves people I haven't seen in years. Last night I dreamed that I was involved to varying degrees with three guys, two of whom I was buddies with in elementary school and one of whom I was friendly with my freshman year of high school. (The last time I saw the guys from my days of early childhood was at my high school class reunion in 2004. I haven't seen my pal from high school since senior year, and we weren't really friends at that point any longer.) Whenever I have these dreams with people from the past, I am almost consumed in the day time by the urge to find them online and try and strike up a conversation with them. I spend hours finding them, and then am smart enough (for once) to not do anything about it. The funny thing is that at least one of these guys is a regular in my subconscious anxiety dump.
I guess I am trying to go back to more secure times in my life, even if they get weirdly updated to being adults. (The subconscious is truly one fucked up bitch.) I am all bothered these days because I want so badly to be accepted into a particular MFA program, and terrified that my trite stories will be laughed at by the graduate admissions committee. If anyone is willing to read 30 pages of stories from my youth and today (involving getting - and losing - boobs and my period), I would welcome your feedback.