Where Do I Live?

Another recurring dream. I don’t dream this one that often, just enough to make me realize that I’ve dreamed this one before more than a few times. I’m on my way home and it’s imperative that I get home – I’m either carrying something home or somebody is visiting, etc. But I only vaguely remember how to get home. My home is always in an apartment building. I manage to get there, standing in the lobby, but for the life of me, can’t remember which apartment I live in. And I start doubting myself, and realize this place might not be the right place.

This time, the dream played out like this:

I’m driving, the streets look like those of New York City. There are constructions going on, on both sides of the street as far as I could see, and there is a lot of traffic because of that. I’m driving along trying to figure out which way I should go. Then I remember that my street is the 30th street and that I have to make a left on the 30th. So I make the left on the 30th, and somehow now I’m on foot. I’m carrying a bag of rice and the bag has 2 or 3 very small holes in it and the holes are positioned in a way that I cannot maneuver the bag to not leak the grains. But my building is just a short walk, and I get inside, stand in front of the elevators, put my bag of rice on a little table standing against the wall opposite the elevators. And I’m drawing a blank. What’s my apartment number? The doorman or security station is on the other side of the lobby, and they are saying something to me, but I can’t hear them. I’m afraid if they’ve noticed that I’m a little lost. Should I ask, ‘do you know which apartment I live?’ Um… no, that sounds just too crazy. They might throw me out. Which floor is it? Is it the top floor? No, that was long time ago in some other building. 4th floor! That’s sounds like the right one. But where were my keys to the apartment? Oh wait, do I really really live here? Maybe I haven’t moved in yet? Where do I live? What am I gonna do with that rice?

And then I woke up.