It was a dream about another. She’s the manager of a coffee shop chain in town that I used to frequent regularly to practice my drawing skills. I don’t have the time that I did then, and rarely go in there now. I was outside this coffee shop, though it was bigger and detached from the other buildings in the street. In fact I could walk around its whole circumference, which is what I did. The windows and doors were open wide. It was a hot day. I could see her through the windows working being the counter. She’d done something, achieved something, though I couldn’t remember what. And I thought, as I watched her, that I must go in and congratulate her. But I had things to do and didn’t really have time to stop. I will do it later, I thought. And then the alarm woke me, leaving me with a sense of something being incomplete. Was that dream really about me?
