A Genius and Her Unanswered Questions

It doesn't feel godlike, but it sure feels superior.

Here I am again, back in time.

I boldly stare at the teacher, something I wouldn't have done at that age.

My body feels a bit restricted by the school uniform, which still fits me in these dreams. I've gained, wow, a good 20 pounds since high school. Yet, in every dream, the uniform still snugly fits me, touching every inch of my skin.

The uniform carries the memory of my old identity, like a ghost outfit.

An identity of a young soul who might never understand herself.

Some said, "You are a genius," in a celebratory and hopeful voice. Others said, "You're arrogant and stubborn," as if I had sinned by being myself.

It didn't matter what I said. When you’re young, your life is firmly held by the grownups who won't stop judging you and pushing you (or ignoring you), even when they shouldn't.

Here, in the dream, I'm no longer what I was.

What an indescribable moment – sitting in the same classroom, clothed in yesterday's uniform with today's mind.

I come from the future, bringing with me the knowledge of "how I turned out to be".

**

**

Here again, the same teacher.

I sit quietly. I listen to him talk. I remember how he used to speak and act.

My old classmates are chit-chatting around me.

I listen and occasionally say a sentence or two.

I wonder how they'd feel if they knew what I know about me.

I feel so relieved now because, in these dreams, I'm at peace with who I am. I don't have to ask, "How come they don't see this?" or "Am I the only one who sees this?"

It's hard enough to be a math genius, even harder to be a girl math genius, and ten times harder being a girl math genius in a girls' Christian school.

Here, my knowledge of the future calms me.

Now it feels funny to sit in a room of people with lower IQs than mine, yet their reaction to my unusual ability tampers with my fate.

I remember it used to be not funny at all.

The teacher keeps talking. I look at the textbook. Knowledge – something I loved then and still love now. I used to knock on teachers' doors with a brain full of questions, but not everyone greeted my enthusiasm positively.

Being exceptionally good in male-dominated subjects, I had no choice but to seek most help from male teachers. Male teachers in a girls' Christian school must keep certain things in mind when they interact with students, and you know what those are! Some chose to keep a safe distance from me rather than stand by and help me rise.

You'd think as a genius, people would see you. But they don't, at least not as you truly are.

They think I don't need help where I do.

They think I need help where I don't.

None of that matters now. I don't know why, but I've been having these dreams again and again. I am back, sitting in classrooms where I once sat and felt extremely lonely. Except now my brain is no longer loaded with unanswerable questions.

**

**

I flip a few pages of the textbook, and everything seems familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Something is missing – what is it?

I guess it's my burning curiosity. It's gone in these dreams. At this stage of life, I've gained enough knowledge to quench my once unsettled mind, and the desire to know more no longer weighs on me.

The lesson is boring.

Strangely, very strangely, I don't want it to end.

The voices of the teacher and my friends are still something I treasure.

What if those days, the purest in a person's life, weren't tainted with such great personal pain?

The bell rings.

Then the sound of footsteps.

I quickly grab my backpack and follow everyone to the door. I know that urge well – just follow, just follow. But once I exit, all my friends go in different directions, and I can no longer "just follow".

All my friends know where their next class is, but I don't.

It happens every time. Why?

The knowledge of my future no longer helps. My mind is blank, and a sense of fear arises.

I'm lost in a building where I spent years studying, and no one knows.

I stop at a corner and search my entire backpack for my class schedule. A dark force somehow haunts me, not letting me find it.

I'm quiet, though. All those years at school taught me one thing well – don't shout, even when you feel desperate to.

I let my fear swallow me whole, until I can't take it anymore, and yell to my brain, "Wake up, NOW".

**

**

I force my eyes open, making sure I'm out of the dream.

It's both assuring and scary that I can always get out of these dreams, only by forcing myself to wake up.

I've dismissed the inner urge many times, but this time I don't – I finally pick up a pen and write down the dream.

The paper gets a bit damp with a few drops of tears. Nothing seems worth my tears, but I generously let a few roll down.

Someday, I may say a morning prayer: "Lord, please stop these dreams from coming back."

But not today.

I have a feeling that someday in the dream, I'll be able to find my class schedule and find my way.

Today's morning prayer is: "May these dreams serve their purpose."