1. of, pertaining to, or characteristic of surrealism; surrealistic.
2. having the disorienting, hallucinatory quality of a dream; unreal; fantastic
I had a surreal experience this morning.
I dropped the car off at the dealership for an oil change. This meant walking to work and coming onto campus from a completely different direction than my normal routine. There was a slighly breeze blowing so, rather than continuing outdoors and enjoying the weather, I ducked inside the Education Tower. This is when my surreal experience began.
It was like I was transported back twenty years, back to my time as a student. Back then I had walked into the Education Tower on many mornings just like this one. I had images flash through my mind, images of students I had classes with, students who — just like me at the time — were working our way to becoming educators. I could remember faces, I could remember presentations and assignments, but I couldn’t remember any names.
I had my entire life planned out for me at that time. I was only coming to the city for five years, just long enough to complete a double-major in Education and Chemistry with a minor in Physics. After that it was going to be back to my hometown, back to dear old Coaldale in southern Alberta. I would return to my alma mater of Kate Andrews High where I would replace Mr. Orr, one of the greatest teachers I ever had.
I would meet someone, settle down and raise the proverbial 2.5 kids. It was all a very “Welcome Back, Kotter”-esque plan, but it was MY plan. I would return to my roots and the small town existence in which I was raised.
As I emerged from the Education Tower, out onto a plaza between two buildings that weren’t even built when I was a student, the morning breeze shocked me back to reality. Life has turned out pretty damn good, albeit very different from the way I had it all figured out all those years ago. It struck me how John Lennon had it right when he said
“Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.”