I have noticed that the busier I am during the day, the better my dreams are at night.
Thoughts often get jumbled together and play themselves out as I sleep, but usually, I can retrace events in my dream to things that took place during the day.
A disagreement with a friend, a question that went unanswered by a professor, someone walking a dog off of its leash
These sorts of things linger in my mind at night which, for example, could very well lead to me dreaming that a friend and I are being chased by a Dalmatian in history class.
See how that works?
If so, you may enjoy the dream I am about to share.
The other night, I dreamed that I was having lunch at a tiny caf called the Last Whisper.
The place was a dive. The kind of hole-in-the-wall I would typically drive past. Average in every way — except for its customers — the tiny room was filled with thousands of familiar faces.
It seemed as though literally everyone I had ever met was there.
Every passing stranger, every old friend, family I had not seen in years
People from different times in my life, some no longer living, that couldn’t possibly have known each other, were holding conversations as though they’d been friends for years; but nothing seemed out of the ordinary with it all.
Space had no effect on the caf; it seemed to expand to accommodate everyone, while somehow maintaining a cozy feel.
Everyone was happy.
That was it, just me and everyone I knew at a run-down cafe.
Eventually, I told my mother about the dream.
“It sounded like heaven,” she said.
This did not surprise me. My mother, a very spiritual woman, can find religion in anything.
I disagreed.
Heaven has angels, and trumpets and singing
Right?
Maybe.
Then again, maybe not.
Maybe heaven is an afternoon spent at the Last Whisper, a small lunchtime cafe that I visited once
You may have heard of it. It’s a hole-in-the-wall that serves coffee and pie by the slice;
a modest little bistro that has just enough room to hold everyone you have ever met.
*Note: I did some research and there is no real establishment known as the Last Whisper Caf; so where the name came from, I still do not know.