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A Drifting Conversation
A Vivid Dream 8
This is a piece in a growing series of mine about dreams and lucid dreaming. In these stories, I give first-person accountings of some of the dreams that I have each night. Identities and locations can shift around with little to no warning and the narratives don’t follow typical plot structures. For more of these stories, click here.
I’m with one of my childhood friends and we’re walking down my street on a warm spring day. It’s been years since I’ve seen him and walking through my front doors with this ghost from my past feels almost surreal. As we get to my room, I remember that it’s in a state of utter chaos. I’m a little embarrassed to even let him in, but I allow him to take a seat on my couch as I begin to straighten up.
In my dreams, my room always appears different than it does in my waking life. The ceiling is higher and the walls further apart. There’s an intricate maze of what appears to be some kind of tubing near my window. Its function is unclear but it’s always there. A narrow alcove in the corner by my bed widens into another room of its own. At the top of my closet, there’s a secret hatch into a non-existent, physics-defying, Harry Potter-expanding-tent-attic in between our second and third floor.
I’m not lucid, but I’m tuned into the subtle ways that certain things are amiss. I…
