DW describes my dreams as “cinematic”, meaning they’re often vivid and sometimes feel scripted. Very occasionally, I can trace the genesis of a dream to something I watched or was worried about that day, but often they’re just... Like I’m telling myself a story, that has nothing to do with anything in my life.

How many of you dream like this? DW says she almost never remembers her dreams, and when she does, they’re not cinematic.

F’rinstance, here’s last night’s dream. I was in London, at some large night club. (IRL I’ve been to London exactly once, in 1986, but only briefly in Heathrow for a connecting flight. Also, night clubs aren’t my thing.) It was apparently the 1960s, because I saw both Bruce Lee and Jimi Hendrix in this club, just hanging out, not treated as celebs or anything. Bruce Lee got into a brawl, though, which Jimi Hendrix tried to break up. London police showed up and hauled them both away. In the dream, I realized that I’d seen Jimi hang up his coat, a long, mustard-colored wool thing, and I was worried he wouldn’t get it back, so I pulled it off the coat rack and ran out of the club with it, but he was already gone.

In the dream, I was thinking that since I traveled around the world often (IRL I don’t travel if I can avoid it), I’d just carry the coat around until I ran across him again. I later tried to return it to him at one of his concerts, but they wouldn’t let me backstage just because I was insisting I wanted to return his ugly coat, since I had to admit that he didn’t know me.

Eventually I spotted him in a hotel lobby in some random city, and called out his name until he turned to me. I held up his coat, which obviously I carried everywhere with me. His eyes lit up, but then he was angry, saying, “Oh so you’re the SOB who stole my coat!” I was trying to calm him down and explain that no, I wanted to be sure it wasn’t stolen, but then IRL one of our cats woke me so I never got to see if he believed me.