My alarm went off at 7am exactly as planned. I was already semi-awake because the sunrise coming through my eastern window is quite bright by then. It’s May 22nd and the sun actually makes me rise around 6am, but I fell back asleep till 7.
At least that’s how I remember it now, still in my bed at 8am. I’m just now remembering my morning, as it comes into clarity, I realize my memories of taking out the garbage this morning are distorted.
I have a very distinct memory of the action, reaching the curb with my two bags of trash, but more and more the conversation I had with the sanitation worker seemed flawed. My memories of the new landscaping work the landlord had performed overnight just seemed wrong.
Aha! I figured it out. It was all made up in my imaginative head between 7:02am and now. I dreamed taking out the garbage. I dreamed talking to the man who picks up my trash. I’ve never met him. My two bags of recycled paper and plastic are still outside my bedroom door, awaiting the attention that will now not come until next Monday.
I’ll bring them back inside my crowded bedroom to be delivered to the curb next week. I have slept through my window of opportunity. I missed trash collection day… Again.
I lay back down in bed, re-living the elaborate details of the dream story impressed with some of the finer, but now totally ridiculous details of my fictional account. It’s numerous how much a dream can depart from reality and yet, not become obvious it’s a dream. It makes one wonder if reality is a dream.
I choose not to go down that recursive rabbit hole.