I wrote this last June, and I still have this damned dream….





Following one of my hospitalizations, my parents rent an apartment for me.  Usually the apartment appears very small.  The building is on a hill much like the dormitory area at UMass/Amherst where I once lived.  The apartment is at the far left as you face the hill, and the entrance is in the back.  It was tough finding this place, and I can hardly wait to move in.  There is a halfway house about–yes, halfway up the hill that rents rooms and serves meals, but I have no interest in living in any situation that compromises my independence. 


One evening, I ride my bike to the trolley stop, which apparently is in Newton, Massachusetts, a ten-mile bike ride from the hospital where I’ve been staying.  The bus to the top of the hill runs every 20 minutes or so.  I leave my bike by a tree and just make the next trolley.


The ride is quick.  I get off at the last stop and wander about.  Aren’t the shrubs arranged differently?  Where is my building?  Where is the apartment? 


Alas, I’ve rented an apartment, don’t have the telephone number or address of the landlord, and haven’t a clue where the apartment is.  I try the key in several locks, which brings suspicious looks from neighbors, and one resident picks up her phone to call the police on me.


I step onto the next trolley back to Newton.  Without an apartment, I have nowhere to go except back to the hospital.  The trolley is near empty because it is late at night, and the ride goes without incident.


I head back to where I left my bike.  But my bike has been stolen!  Why didn’t I lock it?  What am I going to do now?


I wake up wondering why I have this dream repeatedly.  It has been a long night.