I woke up early this morning, still coming out of that half dream state. The threads and fabric of the dream tearing away to the reality of laying in my bed, under my covers, realizing I'm feeling a bit too warm. It's that time of year where comforters are too much but lighter bedcovers are not enough. I lied there, pondering the brief remberances of the dream I was having before I woke.
That's when the realization came to me: I had that dream before. Well, not that particular dream but the continuation of one. It's like a television mini-series and I just got to watch the next chapter. It was my London dream, where I moved to that great European capitol a few years ago and have lived there since. I've never been to England (or out of the states, for that matter) but, where my dreams are concerned, I feel as if I have. I have friends there, not transplants of people I know in my life here but actual friends. My friends and family have come to visit. I have a flat and a job. I have been through the city many times, I even know the neighborhood, where to buy groceries and sundries, where the best laundrette is. I have no clue if such a neighborhood exists in London for real but in my dreams, it's very real to me. I have other dreams similar to this as well. Some of them are fanciful, the old flying dream or where events in my life are happening together that can't possibly happen due to the timeline. But there are a few dreams where things are fully formed, and compleatly out of my experience and I wake up, suddenly, and feel like I have been ripped from one life into another.
I am a life long resident of this little island on the east coast of New Jersey and I am the walking representation of Atlantic City. Which doesn't say much for the city. I'm a professional party guest.