Looking for the Manila Folder in Every Kitchen

Looking for the Manila Folder in Every Kitchen

I dreamed I was at my office, except the hallway was also the corridor from my old apartment building. I was looking for a manila folder with some paperwork my boss needed, but every door I opened was a different neighbor’s kitchen. Mrs. Chen was at the sink washing dishes and wouldn’t look at me. I kept saying I was late for a meeting and asked if she’d seen the folder. She just said, “He already took it,” like I should know who she meant. I went down to the lobby which was somehow also the break room, and my high school lab partner was sitting at the table, older, wearing a name badge from my company. He asked why I hadn’t called after the accident. I didn’t remember any accident. I tried to check my phone for messages but the screen was just a list of missed calls from a number I used to know. I woke up still trying to remember whose number it was.