In the dream, I always stood at the far end of the hallway. The door was always at the other end, away from me, something I had to walk toward if I was going to reach it. That was the whole shape of it — me, distant, and the door ahead.
On Thursday the door was not ahead of me.
I had walked past it before I saw it. I had to turn back to look.
Which means, for the first time in twenty years of the same dream in the same geometry, I was not standing at the beginning of the hallway.
I was standing at the end.
I don’t know what changed. I don’t know what I did differently, or what it means that the position has shifted, or what waits on the other side of a door that follows a person out of their dreams and into the world.
I only know that I was standing at the end of the hallway, and the door was behind me, and I had already walked past it.
And I didn’t open it.
I’m no longer sure that was the right choice.
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