Last night I had a dream in which I was in the shower, and it was so dirty, and I was so dirty that the walls of the shower were turning black. Then I had a coughing fit, and I coughed up a big lump. I was astonished at the size of said lump and nudged it with my toe. Realizing it was cloth, I picked it up to discover that it was the white half-slip I usually wear under summer skirts. The rest of the long, long dream involved my telling various strangers about this incident–trying to make them understand what a “slip” was, and trying to convince them I was telling the truth about coughing one up.

Ever since I went on an anti-depressant for panic attacks a few months back, I have had vivid, memorable dreams. In the past, my dreams were fragmented and fading; once in a great while, I might remember a little of one, but then the memory quickly receded. Now I can remember dreams in their entirety as if they were memories from waking events. Often, I wake up confused, because a dream has crossed far enough over into the real details of life to seem actual. Last week, I woke up very sad. I had dreamt that I was going to move in with a friend. I had lived at No. 6 long enough, and it was time. When I woke up next to Steve, I felt distraught over having to live somewhere without him. It was a long moment before I realized that, no, we were married, not just roommates, and I had no reason or plans to move out.