The Photograph Dream

It was such a short and simple dream. As I was in the kitchen, I froze with a question in my mind, did I dream that or imagine it?

Walking back through thoughts, I eventually went into my office. Sitting there, dream fragments surged forward.

I’d dream that I was with a group of people. I think we were at a flea market or something, as tents and canopies were set up. The place was very busy. It sort of reminded me of a flea market I visited in San Jose, California.

Walking around, I’d found a number of old photographs piled on tables. Most were in color. I didn’t see anyone I knew in the photographs. They were photos of people at holiday dinners — Christmas, Thanksgiving, etc. — vacations, and birthday parties. Some seem to be retirement parties or celebrations. Everyone looked happy and were raising glasses. Most were of different people but as I looked, I recognized some that were the same people in different photos.

I wondered how the photos had come to be there, what had happened to the people? Photographs of such happy-looking people, and here they were, collected on a table. As I held a photograph and thought about that, I looked out from under the tent and saw people outside taking selfies or photographs of one another as they held things.

The dream ended.

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