Recurring Nightmares of the Dairy Variety

I think most people know and understand high school nightmares. You know, the literal dreams that we have where we are back in high school, and we can't remember our schedule or our locker combo? In mine, I don't know the choreography for dance company, and I haven't done my math homework all semester. Always dance and always math.

I have another recurring nightmare, though, that isn't about high school. It's about a former work place. Of all the jobs I've had, there is only one I have regular dreams about... THE DAIRY.

I started working at the dairy the summer after high school. It's actually a cool story - how I got the job. I'd been looking for work for a few months with no luck. One Sunday, I decided to fast and pray about finding a job. When I walked in the door from church that day, the house phone was ringing. It was my friend Jessica asking me if I wanted a job.

Wha?!?

True story.

I really liked working there, overall, but there were a few personalities I butted heads with. After three years, I left on a sour note.

Now I often have dreams that I'm working there again, and it always goes something like this:

-Someone else is wearing my apron

-There aren't any hot dogs in the hot dog cooker, and an old man is mad about it (there were a lot of angry old men at the dairy)

-The ice cream is sour

-Nobody filled out the milk order the night before, and I have to call the plant and ask for more product, and I know they're going to be really mad about it

-There are ants climbing around in the bread (this really happened once - I was stocking the bread and ants had gotten into some of the bags)

-I can't find certain products on the register

I spent the same amount of time working at the dairy as I spent going to high school.

Three years.

I've always found it funny that three short years can have such a huge impact on our lives. Think about it - kids nowadays spend more of their life in a car seat than they do in secondary education, and yet, those high school years will matter significantly for the rest of their lives.

I've also always found it funny that the dairy haunts my dreams. Perhaps it's because I worked there during a very important phase of life - I got married, went to college, graduated from college, and bought a house while I worked there (though I can hardly attribute the house buying to my $6.25 hourly wage). But maybe it's also because things went awry there and I quit my job in the midst of controversy. All I know is that something about the dairy troubles my subconscious at least once a month, and all of my other jobs make nary an appearance in my sleep.