I thought that Monday was a good day to start a blog about my midlife antics. Monday mornings are generally known to cause nausea and anxiety in anticipation of the work week ahead. This Monday was different.It was exactly 5:28 am when I suddenly woke up from another back-to-high school nightmare, one of many that have trickled into my REM sleep over the years. You know the usual- “Argh!” I forgot the combination to my locker- or “Damn” I’m naked walking down the school halls and everyone is looking at me but I don’t care- yikes maybe I do?

But last night was different.  I was a high school senior and my teacher handed me back my math test with sorrowful eyes. Etched boldly in pencil in the top left corner was “ 6/25”- not exactly a stellar mark.  Panic ensued, “How am I going to get into university? “ ” Do I have to take summer school?”  “Oh no! ”

Gasping- I opened my eyes. I was in bed, my husband’s stalky leg strapped around by hip, his snoring muffled by his dental appliance. I was safe, “whew” and spared from that uncertain time in my life, or was I?

Sure- Freud and/or Jung would have a field day with me even without the occasional sexual dream I’ve had about men I don’t know, but it was this morning when I realized why these high school dreams were becoming more frequent and vivid.

Life was changing, as life does, sweeping me into unexpected terrain and there was no turning back.

Next year at this time, I will be a full -fledgedempty nester and will be officially branded a midlifer (born in ’63). The last of my babies will be embarking on his own journey and now it is time to start mine.