Dreams

Every once in a while I get a flash midway through the afternoon of a dream I had the night before.

For the most part, though, I don’t remember my dreams.

I’ve always been in awe of people who roll into breakfast and recount long detailed dreams as if reading from a book.

Friday morning all I could remember was that I dreamt about a variety of things. I could not, as usual, remember any of them.

Then at breakfast something uncanny happened. A woman in the house I was staying in was talking about unconscious things people in share houses do that may or may not piss other people off. The example she pointed to was how sometimes people walk through a house more loudly than they realize they are doing. And then suddenly I remembered my dream from the night before. I was walking through a loft with my shoes off and someone else in the loft told me to walk more quietly.

Now one would think that given my dream and the comment of my breakfast companion that the day before someone had been making a lot of noise while walking around our house.

But this had not been the case. Not in the slightest.

Which leaves one to wonder about the subterranean connectivity of it all.

That is if you believe in such things.