Another string of dreams rumbled through last night. A few were fragmented, disrupted by kitty maneuvering. One stood out for me.
No background to it. Opened with me saying, “It’s fourteen.” Another, ‘off-screen’, replied, “It’s twenty-three.”
I responded, “No, I counted, and it’s fourteen.”
They rejoined, “Twenty-three.”
Then — epiphany. I said, “Wait, it’s 1423.”
Confused murmurs rolled through the dreamscape. Then a beaming black man who I knew was a doctor confronted me. “You solved it! It’s 1423! Well done.”
Dream end.
Or maybe it was just a fragment.
Michael Seidel, writer 
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