How can I return to the scene of a crime I could never commit?

In last night’s dream, I killed someone and hid the body in somebody’s bedroom, in between the bed and the nightstand. I can’t recall the act of murder, how I did it, or the identity of the (male) victim. Or why.

I can recall the guilt and fear of the consequences for my crime. I think I spent a large part of the dream (a very long dream) trying to figure out where I would move the body, and how I would move it by myself (which I didn’t think would be possible).

I should be more diligent in writing down dreams while they are still fresh. Because I missed a lot of details. But the feeling of fear and guilt has lingered with me all day.

There may have been a woman friend, returning from some far destination. And I may have been really concerned that she would think less of me when she learned I was a murderer.

Or possibly she may have forgiven me because it was an isolated occurrence that hopefully would not happen again. Perhaps I had learned a lesson of some sort.

It seems like the location was significant. It may have been a house with many many bedrooms. And the room where I hid my body may have belonged to my friend.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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