Recurring Dream

I've had this one so many times.

I've been here before. I've explored this place over and over in my dreams and I think I understand now. This is the part of my mind that processes loss, that helps me understand it. It always starts the same way, on a darkened, foggy street. It is too early still, and the store I'm walking to is closed, so I wait outside. It will be open soon. It's cold out here and I have to huddle in on myself to keep comfortable. My breath exhales in a cloud of delicate ice crystals, slow and steady, keeping rhythm with the pulse of my body. It's getting lighter still and more people have moved out into the street, starting their day, nodding tiredly to neighbors and sipping from travel mugs. Cars rattle to life and the smell of industry is in the air. A little group is forming outside of the store now, but I don't really feel like talking and from the looks of it, neither does anyone else. So we sit in limbo and wait for �" something.

The doors open and we file in, steady and slow like we have all the time in the world. Inside, the once uniform group scatters, searching, through the isles. I don't know what I'm looking for, really. But I know that I'll recognize it when I see it and so I am content to wander slowly through the canyons and valleys of this massive cavernous store and search. Some items come into view clearer than others. There is a box of laundry detergent but, I don't, I don't think I have a home or a washing machine, or a change of clothes for that matter. Thinking about this causes me to glance down, examine myself. Faded jeans, black hoodie, Converse. Typical. Shades of grey and black, desaturated, washed out. Looking back up, I see ghosts all around me. The shoppers have changed, faded, taken on a stark appearance and a shambling gate. But they do not frighten, no, they sadden me as I think about the endless ocean of searching souls. No one can find what they want, this store is just too damn big, their perception too narrow.

I wander in circles for hours. Days? When suddenly I find myself right where I want to be. A blueberry turnover and a thing of orange juice! Right here, right where they should be. Of course, it's so clear now. This, this right here, is what I've been looking for. Breakfast. My feeling of elation follows me all the way to the register and triumphantly I step up to the teller and display my find. He looks sadly at me, because he's seen me before. He knows what comes next, I think, but he has a job to do, a role to play. I try to engage in small talk as he rings me up. I ask about his morning, about the weather (can't be this cold much longer! Summer is on the way!). Feeling light, I turn and head for the door. As I step out, I realize that it's dark now and, turning, see that the store is closed. But that's fine because I have my, have my, I have my. F**k. Me. I left my food inside the store.