The house had one more room than it has ever had, at the end of the upstairs hall where the wall is. I was not surprised. I was embarrassed, because I had lived there twenty years and never once dusted it.
Walking somewhere that kept getting warmer and greener until it stopped being a place you walk through. I could hear a party going on behind me the whole time and I did not want to turn around and find it.
Counting something in a language I do not speak, correctly, and being told I had got it wrong.
My grandmother, at the age I am now, filling out a form on my behalf. She kept asking me questions I could answer and writing down different answers. Neither of us thought this was strange.
A city I have never been to, whose bus routes I knew. I got off at the right stop without checking. That is the whole dream and I have thought about it every day since.
Light coming through a window that was the wrong colour for the time of day, which I noticed inside the dream and decided not to look into.
Being handed my own coat by someone at a door, in a building I was leaving for the last time, and not being told that.
Everyone I have ever worked with was in a garden and they were all being kind to each other. I woke up furious and I still could not tell you why.
An open archive of dreams. Every entry was written down within an hour of waking, before the mind has had time to arrange it into something that makes sense. That hour is the only rule that matters.
There is no interpretation here. No symbol dictionary, no themes, no meanings offered or invited. Entries are not sorted, cannot be searched, and appear in no order at all, so you arrive in the middle of the archive rather than at the front of it.
It is not here to tell you what any of it meant. It is here so you can find out that somebody else went there too.
Write it before you have decided what it was about. Half-sentences are fine and are often better. Nobody edits these and nobody will reply to you.