Dreaming of rejection

I have a recurring dream.

I am teaching yoga to a room full of people. The location changes every time. It may be a corporate office, a retreat center in the rain forest, my own studio… Last night, it was a luxe destination spa right on the ocean.

The walls were white, the decor elegant and minimal with golden accents. Fluffy white organic cotton towels were stacked precisely by the sliding glass doors that opened to the beach, where sapphire waves gently lapped the shore.

Yoga mats in complimentary jewel tones were lined up in tidy rows. Students were packed into the room, having conversations, stretching on their mats, sipping herbal tea, waiting for yoga to begin.

I ring a small bronze bell that sits on a round purple and red cushion in my hand. The conversational hum dies down and I begin the class by singing a simple mantra.

Some students are singing along, but I notice that some are looking around, shifting their position, and inexplicably, some are sitting in a clump and chatting with each other.

We complete the mantra and I open my eyes to discover some students already doing sun salutations, some students rolling up their mats and walking out, and some students fully engaged in conversations with each other.

I stand, clear my throat and say as loudly as I can (without losing my yoga teacher cool), “Please come to the front of your mat, feet hip width, mountain pose.”

For the most part, I am ignored.

My abdomen feels constricted.

I start to sweat.

“May I have everyone’s attention please?” My voice sounds tight and too high.

“Please end your conversations now. If it is important and you need to talk, please step outside so that we may continue the yoga practice.”

I wait.

Faces turn toward me in disbelief.

Some more people walk out. In fact, many people walk out. The room is clearing out now. I am shaking.

And that’s the moment I wake up.

Is it anxiety? Fear of rejection? Impostor syndrome?

Or is it some kind of imperative message from my subconscious mind that I just haven’t gotten yet?

I can’t remember when these dreams began happening. It wasn’t right away, when I was a still a new teacher.

And the feeling is similar to the recurring dream I used to have as a performer, where I would step out onto stage somewhere, completely unprepared, audience eyes on me, waiting for me to sing or speak. Sometimes I’d be alone on stage and sometimes with other actors waiting for me to continue the scene. And in that moment, I couldn’t make a peep. Couldn’t remember my lines, my song… nothing.

Or maybe it’s more like the dream I used to have as a child in which I would get into my parents’ car by myself and it would start driving on its own. I, being only 8 or 9 or 12 years old, would grab the wheel and try to steer, or stop or slow down to no avail.

In all of those scenarios, I am left with the one truth: I am not in control.