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Dream River

There’s a river that I go to frequently in my dreams.

It’s wide, and deep like the Hudson, stretching for miles from shore to shore and way too big for me to cross without some man-made help.

Frequently there’s a bridge there, and I’m standing on it. Sometimes I’m driving across it, and it suddenly grows so steep that I think my car is going to fall backwards, come crashing back into the water. Sometimes I’m walking across it and the cement is crumbling, cracking. I know I have to keep going but I’m terrified I’ll fall and nothing will catch me.

Last night the bridge was very different. It was made of bricks or wood planks set in parquet squares, that kept shifting around like sections of a Rubik’s cube. The construction was solid enough, but it would never stay still, no matter where I ran to. It was a puzzle bridge, and on it stood a mind that was equally puzzled.

Beneath me the water was vast and deep. It’s not that it was stormy or tempestuous. In fact the sun was shining and it was a gorgeous day. But that didn’t matter. The sheer drop alone and the depth of the water were enough to make it unnerving.

I ran back and forth, trying to steady myself on shifting ground. But the truth was I could only stay steady if I kept moving.

I dream of places sometimes before I see them, but I have a different sort of déjà vu and I wonder if it’s common: dreaming of the same dream locations again and again. Does the mind have a selection of “sets” to choose from and frequently chooses the same ones over and over? Or are these places real, accessible only through the dream dimension?

How strange and cool if that were true.

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