Missing the bus

I had another missing-the-bus dream last night.

It’s the only recurring dream I can ever remember having. They started somewhere in late elementary school, I think, and lasted until the start of my junior year, when I stopped taking the bus to school. Usually in these dreams, I’d wake up super-early, get ready for school and be ready to go for hours, until, at the very last second, I’d realize I’d forgotten something like my shoes. So I’d scramble to get them just as the bus drove by my house.

It translated into a lot of anxiety each morning as I really did wait for the bus -- I’d stand in the doorway of our house, which was on a hill, and be able to see the bus coming way down the road. When it appeared on the horizon, I’d yell “BUS!” to my sister, who was frequently not finished dressing at this point. By the time the bus reached the corner, we’d have just enough time to run down the hill to make it.

My sister frequently took advantage of my anxious bus-watching, using every possible second before the bus came. And the more she dawdled, the more anxious I became, sometimes going so far as to lay out her shoes in the stairway (so she could step into them), putting her sweater on the railing (oh, those ugly school uniforms) and desperately screaming for her to hurry up.

I don’t know why I was so worried. Once or twice, we did actually miss the bus, and it wasn’t the end of the world -- just meant that my mom would put Jonathan in his carseat and drive us to school, and we’d probably arrive earlier than we would’ve on the bus. Rationally, I knew this. I tried to tell myself this. But I kept having these dreams, and the dreams made me very nervous, and it’s very hard to turn off the irrational voice in your head that keeps screaming “PANIC! PANIC!” to your adrenaline system.

Anyway.

Last night, I had this dream again. I was at home, waiting for the bus with my brother and Liz, and two busses actually came -- but somehow, the bus that Jonathan and I were supposed to get on, didn’t stop. (Yes, I know it would’ve made more sense for Liz and I to be taking the same bus, seeing as how we always did, being the same age and all, but it was a dream). My bus driver saw another bus slowing in front of our house and decided not to stop at all. But this time, I looked her in the eye -- she was the same one who drove the bus I took in high school -- and I threw myself at the bus (again, a DREAM) and pried open the doors and made it stop. And I yelled at her and asked her why she had decided not to stop, obviously she could see us there, why was she being lazy and ignoring us?

And right about then, I woke up in a panicked mode, realizing that I was having another missing-the-bus dream.