The other day, I changed a light bulb, of the curly CFL type. I dropped it and it shattered into countless shards, large and small. Next day, while I was vacuuming the rug, the telephone cord interfered and a small pottery vase fell on the floor and broke in half.
In between those days, I had one of those ordinary but vivid dreams. Dave was moving some small items in the kitchen and placed a small green vase atop another dish. The vase slid off and broke. The vase, probably of depression glass, had been in the family a long time, and I've always liked the looks of it. I felt a little bad when it broke, as did Dave, but at this point, no big deal. It was not very important, but the dream about the broken little green vase, ordinary as it was, seemed so real that when morning came I had to get up and go look in the kitchen to see if it was still there. It still is, unbroken.
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