Teeth yet brushed, hair uncombed, and body stale from a night’s sleep, I stood in my sister’s old apartment. C. busied herself packing my newly deceased mom’s belongings. I didn’t interfere. Rarely did C. and I agree on anything. As harmless as the task seemed, there was a 99.9% chance that the packing would lead to a clash between us. Fighting over what should go into which box wasn’t worth the energy it took to get worked up. Every time C. pointed one of my mother’s possessions at me, I answered, “Give it to charity. ”
Suddenly teens filed into the room. Few of them smiled and offered a polite “Good Morning.” Most of them remained silent or chatted about the latest happenings in teen world. Their attitudes asked what did old folks know — and anyone over the age of 25 was older than shit.
One of the girls rankled me when she disparaged a long board. In real/waking time, the board’s presence would have made no sense, but in this dream, the board was very important to me. It had been used to help during the packing of belongings. In so many words, I told her she didn’t know her ass from a hole in the ground.
“Don’t let me talk about where that smell is coming from.” The girl gave me a Why don’t you take a bath? look.
I woke before I could escalate what would surely become an ugly confrontation.
My Interpretation: Now that the hours of work are winding down, it’s time to shift gears and become more flexible in terms of looking at my job skills. This is not the time for “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” I think the appearance of the teens addresses my nervousness regarding my son’s first year in high school. Because this is his first year, I’m not sure what to expect.