Last night I had a dream.

I was in school, between ten and thirteen years old. Treat Williams was my teacher. I raised my hand to answer a question but every time I went to speak this really bitchy girl in front of me (who I did go to school with in reality) would start talking over me. She wasn't saying anything important ... just Ralphie sort of babble ("my cat's breath smells like cat food" kind of stuff). I tried answering many times but each time I tried to conduct classroom business (like answering questions) she would start talking. Treat Williams did nothing about it. He behaved as though it was MY fault she was talking and I got in trouble for not making myself heard over her. I threatened her and it did no good. Finally I slapped her. I was surprised at the force I was able to muster while sitting in a desk. My slap left a large, red, welt across her cheek. She didn't seem very hurt. Her only reaction was that she finally shut up, but I instantly knew I was in deep doo-doo. Treat Williams was less than pleased.
When I was a young school girl misbehavior in school was recorded on the chalk board. The first time you were bad your name went on the board. The second time you were bad you got a check mark next to your name, the third time your name was circled and something REALLY bad happened. (I can't say what the really bad thing is, I don't recall ever getting past the check mark stage with any sane teacher, and the insane teacher made kids eat soap.)
In dream land the progression of misbehavior was recorded by Mr. Williams going to the board and drawing a beautiful scene descriptive of the life cycle of White Tailed Deer. I had been so bad when I struck the other girl that he drew the deer from fawn to stag and then filled the woods with hunters taking aim at the deer herd.
He went into a science lesson about the speed of bullets and the heat of lasers when he suddenly stopped next to my desk. He removed his shoes and began using his feet to riffle through my books. Using his toes he held up a brown paper bag filled with some sort of chunky red goo. "Oh god! It stinks so much I wont even touch it with my hands!" The contents of the bag had once been my lunch, now rotted beyond recognition. I took the bag from him, went outside and threw it in the dumpster.
The alarm went off.

I think the strangest thing about the dream is the effect it had on me upon waking. I had been fretting recently about times in the past when I have behaved in a less than exemplary manner. Nothing so terrible, I just sometimes get into a funk thinking about all the times and all the little ways I have been either intentionally or accidentally unkind to others. I woke from the dream and I felt better about it, all of it. I was able to internalize "water under the bridge" quite a bit better. Perhaps the rotten lunch was the foul guilt I have carried with me for years (sometimes many years ... I still think about hurtful things I said almost twenty years ago.) and now I was finally able to discard it? I don't know, but I do feel better.