Happy Hat Time

Death themed dreams seem to be the Treat of the Week. Apparently my indulgence of House and cheese balls wasn’t enough keep the cortex stimulated. The dreams tend to involve an acquaintance passing away, usually in an accident of some sort. Most have involved cars. My subconscious may be alerting me to the perils of not wearing a seatbelt when being buzzed around Busan by Random Cabbie. Perhaps it’s circulating a memo that some death issues still linger. The latter is most likely, though the former shouldn’t be entirely dismissed.

I wake up each morning, hours before my alarm goes off. I reflect on the scenario that my dreams treated me to do the night before, and hope that in time better dreams will come. In the meantime, I put on my Happy Hat and keep walking.

One of my students picked flowers for my on her way to school the other day. She probably picked them out of somebody else’s garden. Given that this behaviour wasn’t exactly below me at her age (or at present), I accepted them with a smile and hoped that they hadn’t been peed on. It’d be a pity if something that beautiful were sullied.

Wednesday mornings at work begin with the youngest, most hyperactive class on the books. While I thoroughly enjoy teaching The Circus, it takes every last bit of energy from me to keep the engaged. If I’m not dancing around or singing a tune, they’re not interested. I also have the attention span of a cat in heat, so I can relate. Yesterday morning I foolishly decided to positively reinforce their good behaviour with high fives. This did not end well. One moment I was exchanging a high five with Sally Student, the next there were 7 kids swarming around my chair, taking swings. I put both hands in front of my face and hoped to come out on top of this onslaught. Note to self: next time, administer the high fives from a standing position. In the end, I was too busy laughing to discuss with them the logistics of 14 hands versus 2.

Death isn’t an issue that I’ve been avidly seeking refuge from. It’s something that is there, that I deal with in pieces. Every day. The Happy Hat is not a façade under which to hide; it’s merely more pleasant to share flowers and laughter than it is to dwell on those things beyond my control. I indulge my negative thoughts in confines of my own time and space; the time that I share with others is spent pleasure seeking. I try to surround myself with people who provide that, in some form or another. My failure to write about any particular events lately is a reflection of my being so wrapped up in what’s going on, rather than a lack of hilarity. Running in overdrive to Live a Little, like never before, is my way of addressing the death issues.

Perhaps now my subconscious will be satisfied into conjuring up Dream Land images of bunnies and cotton candy?

If only somebody could pass on a memo to Dream Land that it was Happy Hat Time.


Onwards.