I am a vivid dreamer, and apparently unlike many people I can often remember at least some of my visions, occasionally in detail. And although I don't know if it is usual, some of my dreams seem to be like long-running serials, as I return repeatedly to a specific dream to take up an adventure or finish some storyline. Last night was one such visit, though a sad one.
While I was in graduate school, and had just moved to Columbia, I started having a dream about a nonexistent reading room, perhaps some coffeeshop/bookstore/giftstore type of place run by a nun-like group of women who were quiet and reserved. I would go there to read or reflect, and often to catch a quick nap. Yes, I was napping in my dream. Perhaps when I felt rested I could get sleep in the real world. Maybe it was a way to handle the stress of living away from family and dealing with graduate studies. I remember that there was a lot of wood and glass in the place, with lowered lighting, and there was a room off to the side that one could use to lie down, perhaps on one of those sleeper couches you see in psychiatrist offices. I developed friendships with some of the women, and they seemed welcoming and genuinely happy to see me and make me comfortable when I was there. I recall that sometimes we would sit and have discussions. I remember that I could walk to this spiritual oasis from wherever I lived and that it was in an urban area, though somehow it sat apart from the noise and bustle of a normal city. It was peaceful.
Last night, I visited it again, after a long hiatus, but when I arrived I realized that they were closing shop. Silent, unseen women worked quietly to pack the belongings and then I watched as the last boxes were removed and the workers walked away down a path, and I was left alone in the room, sunset light filtering through the stirred-up dust particles floating in the air, and I cried. I wonder now where my dream entity will go to find that same sense of peace.