Hunting for Keys at the Childhood House Bus Stop

Hunting for Keys at the Childhood House Bus Stop

I dreamed I was running late for my usual 8:30 standup, hunting for my keys on the kitchen counter. The apartment was mine, but the hallway to the door stretched like the one at my old office, fluorescent lights and all. I finally got downstairs and the bus stop was in front of my childhood house. My coworker Dana was already there, except she also felt like my college roommate, same laugh, same jacket. She asked why I was on the 7:15 when that route doesn't exist anymore. My phone showed today's date plus a meeting I'd already had last week. I kept trying to text my manager that I'd be five minutes late, but the messages sent to a thread from two years ago. Everyone on the bus looked vaguely familiar, like neighbors mixed with people from a job I quit. I wasn't scared, just embarrassed and foggy, like I'd taken the wrong timeline to work and couldn't admit it.