I woke up at 3:30 a.m., not feeling well. I finally tried to go to sleep — and dreamed.

I seemed to be visiting a friend, although the longer the dream went, the more it appeared that I lived there as a roommate. But it felt strange, and I felt out of place. The place was huge and cavernous and seemed more like rock than wood.

There were a lot of people around, mostly young women, getting ready to go out. I decided my bed wasn’t where it belonged and moved it to an out-of-the-way nook, along with some coat racks on wheels. By the time the bed arrived at its destination, it had shrunk from a full-sized to a twin.

I had to go somewhere, like everyone else, but didn’t know where or when. I didn’t know how far behind I was in getting ready. I also had no idea what my friend/roommate looked like. I couldn’t find him anyway, and I was very curious. I thought he might be avoiding me. I spotted him once or twice, but wasn’t sure because he was a little different than how I had pictured him. When his face was at rest, he seemed very sad; when he smiled, he glowed with happiness. He always seemed to be out of reach and mostly out of sight, and the more I glimpsed the more I wanted to talk to him.

I finally ended up going to a market or fair with an older, distinguished man. He bought a sandwich, but they threw it at him in a hurry, and all it consisted of was a slice of bread, mayonnaise, and a tomato. He got two more slices from somewhere else.

No more returning to the friend in the dream . . .