I rarely have a recurring dream. The few I can remember arrive with no warning, haunt me for a bit while I’m horizontal, and then disappear. Lately, a new dream is visiting my darkest hours.
In this one I’m younger, perhaps a thirty-something. There’s this trove of articles, or maybe some stored boxes filled with books, or clothing. Sometimes it’s furniture. All are things that might be left where I once lived. And the dream is always the same; I have to make time, or I’ve finally made the time, to go back and get whatever is there.
I’m always returning to a campus, a dorm room, or a block of flats. The sense I get is that it was a shared space that others have long since left, with only my belongings waiting to be collected. There’s a distance separating me from this spot and these items. That is, I have to travel some to get there, or block out time that I’d rather use to do something else.
There are no places where my possessions still linger. No storage units. And certainly nothing left at pawn shops along the way. But my dreams come, and then come again. They take me from my day and give me
an another evening to complete a cycle, or maybe to complete the cycle.
It’s a disturbing dream. The landscape never looks the same twice, though my reason for going remains unchanged. I have to find a way to close a door I walked though years earlier. It’s an effort for me to get to there, but once I’m back, I’ll have
a another chance to finish what I started. And before my eyes even open, I realize that everything is still where I left it.
In these dreams, a part of my life resides in a place I left long ago. And I’m being pulled back each night to settle up. But at daybreak, very little has moved. Does it mean I’m disorganized, or lazy? Maybe I just feel safe(r) leaving some things behind, unchanged, and there waiting for me always.