I guess six-year-olds are too young to have the traditional school anxiety dreams (e.g., go to school naked; show up for class and there's a final exam that you never studied for; etc.) so my subconscious decided to have one for him.
I was back in college. Voice juries were on the schedule. I had six songs to sing and I had not practiced a single one of them even though I had had the music and the accompanist for weeks. All my old teachers were in the room, waiting. There were lots of other well-prepared singers lining up to sing. There were black chairs and pianos everywhere. I kept looking at my music and trying to figure out a reasonable way out of my predicament. What kind of excuse could I come up with? At one point I realized I was still asleep and possibly dreaming but I was feeling really anxious and a strong urge to keep sleeping and resolve my problem.
I didn't resolve it but when I finally woke up Hope was standing by the bed staring at me.
I felt a great sense of relief knowing it really was just a dream, that I didn't have to sing in front of a bunch of judges, and that it was time to get up and start the day, get some breakfast, do the laundry, feed Peggy, vacuum dog hair, answer 6,000 questions by 9:30 a.m., break up three wrestling matches by 10:00 a.m., unload the dishwasher, load the dishwasher, unload the dishwasher, grocery shop, pay bills, mow, wipe jelly off the kitchen floor, say NO 50,000 times by 10:30 a.m., throw away broken toys, clean pee off the toilet, walk/run the dog, clean the cement dust that blew into the house yesterday while the cement guys sawed through the basement crawl space, retrieve neighbor's dog who magically escaped through our temporary fence gate, and give Peggy her third bath in a year (but second in the past two days), de-dog hair the bathroom...
...and, really (I know it might sound crazy) love every minute of it.