Crazy Little FruitBat Analyzes Dreams
The performance anxiety dreams have started. Not two weeks into the semester and last night, I had my first dreams about turning in papers and, when it's time to get our marks, waiting anxiously for the feedback, preening a little because I know how good I am (heh): NO PAPER COMES BACK TO ME. It disappeared. It's as if I never turned it in. I don't exist.
I've had my time on the shrink's leather settee and I think I know what this means. [Ok, in chorus, using Jim's voice: "Oh, I'm sure you do."]
Doesn't everyone (reassuring self) have a deepseated need to look in the mirror and see something there? I need a reflection, a reaction, response. Nothing hurts me worse than being ignored. Nothing I'm more afraid of than being overlooked, passed over, denied.
And when you connect that fear with an evaluation of my work, my SELF, it's lethal.
But hey, it's only a dream, right? My neuroses are safely contained within the hard-shelled nut that is my skull. It won't really happen.
Next week when I turn in those papers, I'm thinking of videotaping it.