Why should the fact that it was all in my head make it any less real?

Tempus fugit

Early this morning I woke up from a dream. It was an unusual dream, though neither good nor bad. It just sort of was. But it was, undoubtedly, an interesting dream.

In this dream I was talking to someone from my past. Not someone I was particularly close with, but someone I worked with, and by extension, ended up spending a fair amount of time with. We weren't close, but her and I did co-exist in the same room, often working on the same things, every weekday for several years.

When I stopped working at that place, which was a difficult transition to say the least, I stopped talking to that person, and many things were left unsaid between us, for good or ill. And this is unusual, because there are not many people in the world I have 'unfinished business' with. There's a few, but for the most part, I've said what I need to say and I think they've said what they need to say, and we've moved on. Sometimes our paths cross again, that that's nice, and sometimes our paths stay divergent, and that's okay. In this case, a lot of water passed under that bridge since, and a lot of that water was painful and full of hard times.

Anyway, in this dream, which was inexplicably set in what may have been the Elgin and Winter Garden Theatre in Toronto, this person and I were sitting and having a quiet, calm conversation. We talked about some of the things that perhaps should have been said back then, when we first parted ways. Some of those things were easy, some cut close to the bone, but I remember the whole experience being calm and serene. I don't remember apologies or explanations on either side, but I do remember a sense of listening and hearing. I don't remember many details of the conversation - it was a dream after all - but I do know that when I woke up, I was left with a feeling of catharsis. That's a powerful way to wake up.

I am generally not a superstitious person, but I do recall, upon waking, that I hoped nothing bad had happened to her, that she hadn't passed away in the night or something. There's been enough tragedy in her life since we parted ways, and her family doesn't need any more of that. While the front of my mind easily dismisses any thought that I had a conversation with a ghost hoping to somehow finish her business before 'moving on' or whatever, that small quiet part of my mind did wonder if that wasn't indeed exactly what happened, even while it sat there scolding itself for thinking that anything left unsaid between her and I would be worth the spiritual effort of such an adventure. But even under that, there's that tiny spark of wonder that perhaps, if something had happened to her, that our interactions in life, the good and the bad, were perhaps worth a few minutes of her time before making her way to whatever great adventures comes next.

There's no real moral to this story, though I suspect it wouldn't be that hard to tease one out, but it was an interesting experience, even if it was all in my head. But to quote a great thinker, why should the fact that it was all in my head make it any less real?