In my Huffington Post, "Back to School Nightmares," I share the sweat and angst of bad dreams that always seem to rear their ugly face this time of August:
" ... So there I was. My hands were weighed down with books... and not the light, fluffy stuff I like to read at the beach. Rather, these were books about algebra, science, quantum mechanics and world history. I was trying to run down the hall to put my books away so that I could get to gym class on time, but I couldn't find my locker. I suddenly remembered that it was five flights up and down a long hallway. When I finally got to my locker, I blanked on the combination. Was it 24-left or right? Do I pass zero and then dial 15, or wait until I scroll in the third number?
"And why did my mother make me wear mittens to school?
"The books fell out of my hands and crashed to the floor, just missing my new penny loafers. I heard a bell ringing. I looked at my schedule and saw that I wasn't supposed to go to gym class, but to math class. Then I realized that I had last year's textbook, and I didn't have a clue where math class was because the classroom numbers on my schedule were completely smeared. I had no idea where I was going.
"The ringing got louder and louder. My head was swirling. I knew I was going to be late. I began to panic.
"Oh, and one more thing... I forgot to put my pants on before leaving the house."
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