Well, that dream was something, starting with the carnival, and finishing with a “Wizard of Oz” ending.

To enlarge, I was at a carnival, and it was day. Several women were present, but nobody I knew. I was working in a roughshod office; I don’t know my job, position or task. Three women – maybe they’re my muses – were distracting me, and then making enticing offers about what would happen if I go with them. One, a tall brunette, was dressed in a sky blue dress, and danced as she moved toward the exit.

I was interested, and more than willing to follow. But, I discovered I was missing items. First, I was missing my car keys. Then, I was missing my green Tilly hat, and finally, I was missing my wallet with my identification and credit cards.

That last shocked me. As the women said good-bye and left, I started a furious, intense search of the carnival grounds. I knew it was a carnival, but it was little more than a few tents and booths set up over sloping, grassy ground. Others were present; one man told me to go to another section. There, I would find a little woman. I should report my loss to her.

I did so, and she provided me with a gold credit card to use until I recovered. It was in a clear plastic sleeve with money and other items to help me. I thanked her, but I wasn’t satisfied. I wanted my wallet, keys, and hat. I wanted my identity, damn it. Yet, I was aware, the clock was running; if I didn’t soon find my lost credit cards and identity, someone else could use them and rip me off. I became concerned about how to explain it to my wife.

I kept searching, and stumbled across my Tilly hat on a patch of grass. Relieved, I picked it up. Underneath it were my wallet and keys. I was overjoyed by the finds. Locating a computer, I checked my accounts, and confirmed that nothing had been charged. Apparently, I decided, I’d just misplaced it all. I was relieved.

Then, though, I acknowledged I had this new, unused credit card in its plastic sleeve, along with the money I was given to assuage my troubles. I tried giving them back, but that option was rejected. I could keep it, I thought, to have something private available for emergencies, but I couldn’t reconcile to myself why I would need something private.

It was still day, as though the sun hadn’t moved. The dream ended with me putting on my Tilly hat and walking away, keys, and wallet in hand, undecided about what to do, but realizing that I’d had all my identity all along.

I’d been worried about nothing.