Throughout my adult life, I have had this recurring dream where no one is coming for me. This dream usually starts with me getting off the bus to enter middle school (and sometimes high school, too). I see friends from my neighborhood, friends from school, and classmates. I usually walk the hallways, stop by the lockers, and pass classrooms.
In my middle school, there were six main hallways. Three hallways are the 6th, 7th, and 8th-grade halls; two get you to your classes, and one leads to the gym and cafeteria seating area.
Each time in this recurring dream, when I get to the 8th-grade hallway, school is about to let out. The bell rings, and I scramble to finish conversations with friends while keeping in mind that I have to catch the bus home.
My school bus ride to my house is a 15-minute ride, but it is also a 2-hour and 26-minute walk. In my dream, I am very conscious that I do not want to miss my bus because walking home by myself would be a treacherous walk.
When I attempt to make it outside to where the buses are, I usually have a hard time remembering what bus I am to ride home or the buses are circling and heading out. I find myself running toward my bus so the bus driver sees me so he can stop, open the door, and let me on. I am too late, and all the buses drive right past me.
All the buses turn out and away from the school. I realize I am now stuck at school, my dream gets blurry, and I usually wake up because my mind and heart are racing to the point of an anxiety attack.
So, recently, when I had this dream, I woke up and sat there thinking, “This dream again!?”
I gave myself some extra time to process, and the first thought that came to my mind was no one is coming for me.
To give you a little more context, missing a bus ride in middle school was something you did not want to do. It was a dreadful phone call to make. First, if I had to call home, I had to hunt down someone still in the building to let me use the office phone. (Pre-cell phone era) Since I feared asking people for help, I usually waited too long to catch someone. (Yes, I would sit, walk, or pace back and forth until I mustered up the strength to try and get back in the building to ask someone to use the phone). By the time I decided to try to get back into the building, somebody had locked it up. I had to wait until the janitor walked by to bang on the door to let me in.
To call home, I never knew what kind of response I would get. Would I get cussed out for missing the bus? Would anyone actually drive 15 minutes one way to get me? Or would anyone even be home when I called?
If you are wondering, yes to all the above, and yes, I have made the 2 1/2 hour walk home. The walk home for a middle school teenager is not for the faint of heart. A seven-mile journey at night is a long walk. I’m talking about a windy road with no sidewalks.
I can remember my first time walking home from school. I would jog a little, walk, jog, and pant, all while carrying every book I owned in a beat-down K-Mart backpack.
By the time I made it to my house and entered, no one had asked where I had been or if somebody had received my message about being stuck at the school. There wasn’t someone saying to me, I’m sorry you had to take a journey of walking from school. No one knew. I went to my room, fell right into my bed, and went to sleep.
I can remember how my legs felt carrying what felt like a weight vest, but more importantly, I remember carrying a heavier weight because no one came for me.
To dig deeper into this dream, it pops up occasionally, I believe because my subconscious tells me I still believe this message, “NO ONE IS COMING TO GET ME.”
When faced with a stressful season in life, I still tell myself no one is coming to help me. You have to take the long way through this. You must carry the weight, walk until your legs are ready to give out, and then you’ll reach your destination to get some rest.
In some regards, when missing the bus, as badly as I want someone to come and get me, there’s a part of me that hopes no one answers so that I can take my thoughts, my loneliness, and my problems on a walking journey.
The weariness of the journey home will give me a greater appreciation of knowing that although I missed my ride home, I still got home. What felt like an impossible task to do, I did it. Not only did I do it, but I survived it.
Perhaps these are my leftover thoughts of living in survival mode for most of my life. Survival mode tells me that I have to figure life out on my own; no one cares; you have to do and go through hard things alone.
Being in my mid-thirties, I know this isn’t true. However, this dream helps me remember that the middle school boy who believes no one is coming for him still needs healing.
Will someone come for me next time? I don’t know. Will I make my bus in time to enjoy my ride home with friends? I hope so. But if not, I’ll take the slow journey home and appreciate the opportunity to strengthen my mind, body, and soul.
P.S. Oh, I forgot to mention, there was this one time a bus stopped and let me get on. It wasn’t my original bus, but we did go in a direction that would get me near my house—perhaps a story for another time.
Josh Samarco 