Life After Teaching: Dreams

I’m someone who dreams almost every night—just the usual, random dream-stuff most of the time.

When I left teaching back in November I had mixed feelings. Leaving mid-year is never ideal, especially in this profession, but for a whole tangled web of reasons, I needed to let something go and the job was the only thing that was expendable.

From Thanksgiving through early January, my dreams got weird. Intense. And very school-focused. Not just the school I’d just left, but even my previous teaching job made guest appearances. The two schools never mixed—each dream was clearly about one or the other.

In the dreams not only did some of my colleagues appear but one dream included a friend that I haven’t seen or spoken to in a very long time. I was asking them, “Don’t you see them? Don’t you see the ghosts?”

Yup, ghosts. I could see them. I had no idea who—or what—they were, but they were everywhere in the halls.

I have never, to the best of my recollection, had a dream that contained ghosts. This one stuck with me for days. I mean, ghosts are classic symbols of being haunted, right? And yeah, I’ve been haunted by my decision to leave. But I also wondered if there was a deeper meaning to the dream.

So I did what any reflective ex-teacher with an internet connection might do: I Googled it. According to AI Overview (shoutout to modern mysticism), psychological interpretations of ghost dreams include unresolved issues, lingering fears or anxiety, hidden desires, self-reflection, and trauma.

Check, check, check, check, and... yep. Check.

This would explain why there were so many ghosts.

Then there was another section called spiritual interpretations. These include: messages from the deceased, spiritual guidance, energy and intuition, and release and letting go. Messages from the deceased is interesting - someone is possibly trying to offer me comfort or guidance. I’ve lost people, sure—but none recently, and none tied specifically to this situation. There have been other more traumatic situations in my life when comfort or guidance would have been needed more. Spiritual guidance is similar - someone is attempting to shoosh me in a direction. Yes, please. I’ll take that.

Then there was energy and intuition which could mean I’m developing psychic abilities. This would be AWESOME. If I could predict my future path I could almost envision a stress-free life, earn a bajillion dollars while solving my retirement plan. I always wanted psychic powers. I even tried wiggling my nose like Samantha from Bewitched as a kid. Didn’t work.

And of course, there's release and letting go. Like duh. I’ve literally been working on that since Day 1 post-teaching.

In early January those dreams stopped. I had been out of the classroom for close to two months and felt like I was ready to pivot. I left all the school messaging groups. I tossed out all my teaching materials. Through the end of winter I kicked the tires on some ideas and started implementing. I have been intentional with what I want my new life to look like, purposeful with my actions and careful with how I spend my time. The build has been slow but I like the structure that’s emerging.

Then last week another dream.

This time, I was asked to come back to be a long-term substitute teacher. I’d agreed and as the school year wrapped up, I realized I liked being back. I’d missed it.

But I know exactly why I dreamed that. Someone from school reached out to check in. It meant a lot—just to feel remembered. I told her I was still figuring things out, and she said she was sure the school could find a place for me.

I woke up and was confused. Like the ghost dream, this one clung to me. I wanted to talk to someone about it but was afraid the conversation would open up the dialogue “Was I really done teaching?” And honestly? I was flattered. Deeply. It felt good to be missed, to know I’d left an impression.

But then I wondered—like with the ghosts—was this my subconscious poking around in feelings I haven’t quite put to bed yet? Am I really that easily stirred by a text or memory?

In the end, after all the thoughts chasing each other around like a dog chasing its tail, I came to a conclusion. Leaving teaching was like getting wounded - albeit a self-inflicted one. Over time, a scab formed. But reconnecting, even lightly, picked at that wound—and yeah, it bled a little.