i know i’ve posted about dreams previously, but i feel the need to do so yet again. my facility to remember nightly dreams is so limited, that when i wake with lingering images, sounds, and feelings, i’m always startled and amazed. i had one such dreams several nights ago.

unfortunately a busy schedule and a previously started essay delayed my writing this post and, as such, those images, sounds, and feelings have faded even further into the recesses of my already poor memory.

what i do remember are blurred images of riding around a big and modern city (london?) in a very small and old mini (stick-shift) with a cute brunette driver. as is usually the case, the driver isn’t someone from my waking life, but was nonetheless very familiar and comfortable to me….

i find it fascinating that not only can my brain create the likeness of a woman i’ve never met, but also create feelings for her. but i digress….

we had, the driver and i, been attending a concert (much like the girl, i don’t think it was a band from the real world, but one that her and i liked nonetheless) with tickets provided by a good friend of mine. we ended up ducking out of the concert to, i don’t know, wander around the city in the tiny little car. i don’t recall the reasoning behind it, though i guess in dreams there doesn’t need to be reasoning.

we eventually made our way to a very small, very hip coffee shop, where we remained for the remainder of the night (or at least until i woke up).

i’m not sure why i feel the need to ‘blog’ about this, other than that’s what i do. right? i write random posts about things in my life…. anyway, i’m just amazed that days later i can still hear the faint reverberations of the band in the medium-sized concert hall. i can still see fuzzy images of fliers taped to walls and light posts. i can visualize the interior of the small, beat-up, and mint green mini. i can make out the basics of the woman’s face, body type, hair, etc. i can even hear the sounds of the hardworking, but jovial coffee shop barista, as the driver and i sat, sipped espresso, and spent a carefree evening in each other’s company.

i can even remember a small sense of guilt for skipping the concert for which my friend had procured tickets for us.

i don’t know what else to say other than, again, i’m amazed how a the memory of a dream and its echos of feelings and senses effect me in my waking life. even now, days later, i’m left with a sense of contentment and happiness that was ripped away by the buzzing of an alarm clock.

so it goes.