I woke up this morning feeling very nostalgic for an apartment in which I used to live. It was a really small apartment. I lived there for awhile with eyelid and before that with _xis. I have very distinct memories of this place. All of these memories are very happy. This morning's memory was being there with eyelid.
This is the apartment layout.
As you can see, it is very small. As you can also see, there is a large grayed out area of the apartment. It is left blank since I have never seen that part of the apartment.
In all of my memories of this place, I am sitting at the table next to Scoot or eyelid or _xis, laughing and talking, while one of us is cooking at the stove. Now, it's fair to point out here that the last sentence probably wasn't interpreted as intended because of basic assumptions about how things work. At no time in these memories were there more than two people in the apartment, yet there were two people at the table. One of whom was also at the stove cooking. Simultaneously.
You see, this apartment does not exist. I have been dreaming these memories for more than fifteen years. Every time that I
remember this place, I spend the next several waking hours trying to be sure there really was no such place. The memories are so happy and so real and so temporally impossible and so spatially paradoxical.
A recurring dream. Of happy memories. With dear friends.