The human mind is a remarkable machine. It can gin up images and world never visited, and places relegated to the dusty shelves of memory.
There I was, in the library of my old elementary school. It was crowded, but with adults and not children. And they were milling about, buzzing happily. For some reason, there were a lot of Dallas Cowboys books there. But that wasn’t the thing. There I was, in this library, and I was thinking of someone. A love lost. And even in this dream, I wasn’t surprised I was thinking about this love. The setting was surprising, but not the thought.
I’m glad that I had this dream overnight.