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Wednesday, September 14, 2016

215

It was the perfect storm:  a bizarre dream followed by a long, quiet, solitary moonlight bike ride, offering a lot of time to think about it.

I was an adult, but back in high school.  I had a reading assignment, but the book I needed was in my locker.  I couldn't find my locker.  It was row after row of identical lockers with identical locks.

I ventured in to the school office to retrieve my locker number.  Three people were walking out.  I didn't recognize two.  The third was a former co-worker who wants nothing to do with me.  By the way, the list of estranged former co-workers is rather long.

Anyway, I got my number.  215.  I wrote it everywhere.  Notes, tags, a slip of paper that went in to my wallet...  I then decided I didn't want that book in my locker, after all, and I left.

The school and locker thing is one issue, but I can't get 215 out of my head.  Am I going to die at 2:15.  Is something good or bad going to happen to me on February 15th?  Should I play 215 in the lottery?

With minor exceptions, my dreams are usually triggered by something that happened earlier in the day, or an event coming up in the near future.

This one came out of the blue.