Blank Receipt on Supermarket Tile in High School

Blank Receipt on Supermarket Tile in High School

I dreamed I was at the grocery store after work, looking for the receipt because I thought I double-charged for milk. The cashier was my old neighbor, but she also felt like my sister, same voice, different face. She kept saying there was another copy in the back office. I went through the staff door and it opened onto the hallway of my high school, fluorescent lights, lockers, except the floor was still supermarket tile. I kept checking rooms for the office. Each one had a different person sitting there pretending not to know me: my manager, then my dad, then a classmate I hadn’t seen in years. Nobody would look at the receipt I was holding. I felt that tight, embarrassed panic like I’d done something wrong and everyone already knew. When I finally found a desk with a lamp on, the paper in my hand was blank. I woke up still trying to remember what I was supposed to prove.