I wander through my empty house in Philadelphia. I see a closet. No, perhaps it’s a chest of drawers. The image changes frequently. I open up a drawer and there are clothes. I panic. All this has to be gone. The container has left. Where is my suitcase? I’ll put this stuff in there. I have no suitcase. That’s packed and gone too. What to do. What to do.
I wake up in a cold sweat.
All I can think of is where is that pen and ink drawing given to me by N. B. 42 years ago that depicts a roadside billboard structure without any billboard advertisement covering the stark structure.
What I think about when I wake up changes but it’s always the same.
Where is it… The day before it was a shirt I can’t seem to locate. I know I brought it with me but I have no idea where it is now. Not in the closet. I’ve looked.
This apartment isn’t big but finding things when you’ve re-arranged your entire life is stressful. I have this dream more often than others. Or at least I remember this one more often. I rarely remember my dreams so perhaps it’s that other dreams are more frequent but more forgettable.
My wife tells me I sometimes speak Danish in my sleep. That must be my other stress dream – forgetting English, learning Danish, or mushing it together to make Danglish. Is it mooshing or mushing?
