The Empty Backpack Behind a Dumpster in the Parking Lot

The Empty Backpack Behind a Dumpster in the Parking Lot

I dreamed I was at the grocery store after work, trying to find my cart, but the aisles kept looping back to the same cereal shelf. My neighbor from downstairs was there in a cashier vest, except he also looked like my old coworker Dave, and he kept asking if I’d seen a black backpack. I said no, then realized my own bag was gone from the checkout. I went to the parking lot to look, but it was mixed with the hallway of my apartment building, longer than it should be, fluorescent lights buzzing. Someone had left a wallet on the floor with my name in it, but the photo was blank. I felt that mild dread like I’d done something wrong without knowing what. I kept checking my pockets for my keys and phone. When I finally found the backpack behind a dumpster, it was empty except for a receipt from a store I don’t remember going to. I woke up still half-convinced I needed to call the police about a theft that didn’t happen.