Occasionally I’ll remember only a fragment or two from my dreams, which I suppose is better than forgetting them entirely.
A few nights ago I dreamed that I had forgotten to close the rear hatchback door of my wife’s car after unloading groceries. My subconscious mind was so convinced (and convincing) that it roused me from a sound sleep at 4 in the morning, at which point I got up to peer out the window at my wife’s car, safe and secure in the driveway.
Later that morning, we were driving around at night in the North Shore suburbs of Boston. I’m not sure what our destination was in the dream, but we were convinced that we were near the ubiquitous Route 1, which was crucial to getting back on track. We came up to an intersection, made a right-hand turn, and were on Route 214. Where the hell is Route 214?