Some memories happen while we’re awake.
Others arrive while we’re asleep.
This one refused to leave.
It began outside one of Neal’s old apartments.
His Cadillac sat in the driveway just as I remembered it. Parked beside it, though, was the smallest Jeep I’d ever seen. Not a toy. Not a child’s ride. Just… impossibly small.
Somehow Neal climbed into the driver’s seat.
I squeezed into the back.
Without thinking twice, we headed down the road.
After a few minutes, Neal glanced over with that familiar grin.
“Come on,” he said. “I’m buying you some clothes.”
The next thing I knew, we were walking through Montage.
Rows of sport coats, dress shirts, and slacks stretched in every direction while Neal helped me pick things out as if this were the most ordinary afternoon in the world.
Another friend arrived in an enormous pickup with a light rack across the roof, and the three of us wandered the store, talking and laughing without any concern for the time.
Eventually we left for a private party hidden behind another club.
The music was loud.
People laughed.
Someone handed me a drink.
Everything felt strangely familiar, even though none of it made much sense.
Then, without warning…
Everyone disappeared.
Neal was gone.
Our friend was gone.
The party was gone.
Waiting for me outside was an expensive-looking bicycle.
Still dressed in my suit, I climbed on and started riding home.
The city slowly disappeared behind me.
The pavement became gravel.
The gravel became a narrow trail through thick woods.
The trail tilted downhill.
Faster.
Then faster.
Soon I was moving so quickly I couldn’t slow down.
The bicycle had no brakes.
The trail simply… ended.
For an instant I expected to crash.
Instead, I kept going.
The bicycle and I sailed into the air above an endless forest.
Below me stretched an endless forest bordered by a broad, slow-moving river that shimmered in the moonlight.
Oddly enough, I wasn’t afraid.
Years earlier, during flight training, instructors taught us that if an engine ever quit, you didn’t waste precious seconds wishing for a better place to land.
You picked the place that gave you the best chance of walking away.
As I floated silently over the trees, I searched for an opening.
There wasn’t one.
Finally, I aimed for the tops of several large trees.
The bicycle struck the canopy.
Branches snapped.
Leaves exploded around me.
I bounced from limb to limb until I reached the forest floor.
Without a scratch.
I stood there trying to understand where I was.
Then I realized I wasn’t alone.
People began walking toward me.
Some had been gone for years.
Others for decades.
Every one of them smiled as though they’d been expecting me.
No sadness.
No explanations.
No grand reunion.
Just conversations picking up as though we’d only been apart for a few minutes.
Then Neal appeared again.
The next thing I remember, we were standing together in what looked like a stockroom.
Shelves stretched to the ceiling.
Boxes filled every aisle.
We spent what felt like hours sorting bottles of wine into rows of handwritten catalog cards.
Every bottle had a place.
Every card belonged somewhere.
Neither of us questioned why it mattered.
We simply kept working.
Then…
I woke up because I had to pee.
It was the middle of the night.
Instead of going back to sleep, I spent nearly two hours writing down every detail I could remember before it disappeared.
I’ve had vivid dreams before.
I’ve dreamed about people I’ve lost.
But never one that stayed with me like this.
I still don’t know why this one stayed with me.
Maybe some memories find us before they belong to us.
If this resonated with you, you’re not alone.
