Imagine being greeted by your middle-aged teacher-reminiscent of Nanny McPhee, dressed like a hipster and asking you “how have you been?” What would you do in that situation? I know what I did-geeked out like I was 9 again, asking convoluted “what ifs?” and not really listening to anything she was saying, while nodding my head with eager excitement. And while I was enjoying these shreds of memory in a dream, I couldn’t help abruptly being interrupted by my I-phone alarm that partly deafened my right ear. Mrs. Ewert was her name, and I can’t stop thinking about her.
This awkward excitement of nostalgia was is like no other. I can only equate this type of feeling to ingesting a ton of tainted sour patch kids. And while I probably provided the worst metaphor known to man, thinking about Mrs. Ewert was more sour than sweet. It wasn’t specifically her that brought a rush of sadness, but the severe emotions I recall while still a teeny bopper in her very exclusive class.
During that time in my life, my sisters and I transferred to a private christian school in a desirable suburb. I remember my optimistic thinking that was gradually shuttered by fear of acceptance. A predominantly white school rigorous in academics, and I was knocked down to repeat third grade. You could imagine I wasn’t the happiest camper, losing my predestined space in Mrs. Szucs forth grade class. These feelings and ideas are making me feel eerie, is it a signal?
I’ve been asking God all freaking day why Mrs. Ewert? Why would I dream of her so suddenly? A sweet lady she was, and full of a nerdy vibrance that gave me such a satisfying experience at my second attempt of third grade-which I will note, I passed. Yet this dream, and my unanswered questions still linger-Why now? I’m sure there is some symbolic forces nagging at me and telling me to pay attention, but to what? I don’t know how to feel. Has this happened to you before?