I was at a combined high school-college reunion, interesting because I was the only person common to both. I could not get anyone to notice or talk to me; it was as though I were invisible or did not exist. After making countless efforts to participate, I gave up, deeply unhappy and disturbed.
It was then I realized I was in my aunt’s house, which I had always found to be mysterious. I remember, as though it were an actual memory, seeing alpine meadows around it, although it was at the bottom of a hill in town.
In past dreams, just as I was leaving I would remember that I needed to check out the upper floors of the house that I hadn’t seen in years and the mysterious views of the land around it. By then, though, it would be too late, and I would have to leave. The places and views were always out of reach. This time, although I felt the urgency of time, I started to explore the house.
The parts I saw were strange, but not in the way I remembered or imagined. When I looked out any window, I saw the same view — a black rock canyon dotted by many cave openings at which stood middle-class people dressed in middle-class clothes. They did nothing but stand there, apparently peering out — just as I was doing.
I came to a floor that consisted of a wide, muddy, oval track — strange, but not the type of strangeness that I expected. I knew I had to wake up when I couldn’t find the views I thought I remembered or the visions I had hoped for.
As I woke up, I began to think of my aunt’s house as a variation on the TARDIS.