I'm sick so I keep falling in and out of asleep and I had a dream about getting a short essay back from one of my favorite high school teachers. I sort of vaguely remember writing the essay in another fit of sleep, and thought it was pretty good. The grade was terrible, I think like a 68 or something. The page was covered in red ink. I was trying to figure out what the hell happened, Ms Mitchell was one of the people who encouraged my writing the most, both in terms of fiction and nonfiction stuff. Hers was one of the few classes I got consistently good grades in, but it was because she inspired and encouraged me to put the effort into everything I wrote. So naturally, I wandered over to her desk like a wounded puppy asking what I did wrong. It felt weird doing so, because it was definitely adult-32-year-old-present me, but I had to know.
This is the part I wish I remembered better, because her response was a mantra. I knew the moment she said it it was mine, and sounded like the sort of up-my-own-ass-I'm-17-and-this-is-deep-but-actually-it's-meaningful-now-that-I-look-back-on-it kind of shit I said all the time back then, but even more potent. I remember it was 6 words, two sentences of three words each. I remember one of them was about like clarity of action, or something. It was a minimalist mannifesto, something part of me was VERY into back then.
She told me that those words used to be my guiding ethos. That it was what made me a good writer. She called my current writing wasteful, unfocused, too passive and overly sentimental. She said I could do better and she expected such in the future.
My writing metamorphosed over time, it's impossible not to and improve in any way, so this fucking hurt. It was a short dream---I was maybe out 20 minutes if that---so it wasn't as rough as it could've been, but still. Most of my nightmares these days are either defending the souls of dead loved ones from some horror beyond death and the abyss, or just pure abstracted terror, so one like this was just uncalled for and demeaning.
;; w ;; why she say I no write good, it's the only thing yote good at ;; w ;;