Recursive Words

I had the strangest dream last night. I’m writing it down before it leaves my head. Have you ever noticed that? – how if you don’t tell somebody about a dream, or write down anything about it, it will vanish from your memory? Huge parts of it have already gone, but the who is still there.

Back in the early days of Blogger, Tumblr, and LiveJournal I became friends – if you can call reading each other’s journal “friends” – with all sorts of people, all over the world. This was of course back in the relatively early days of blogging, when people shared the unvarnished happenings of their daily lives – before all the niche slop arrived.

We each shared the smallest moments of our days, and became an odd sort of not-so-secret society. Of course we were all learning how to “be” in that world too – a world with no guard rails, and that seemingly existed outside of the “real world”. Mistakes were of course made – by most of us.

Anyway.

A few of those nebulous friendships solidified over time. I still follow some of them now. The likelihood of us ever meeting was always incredibly low, but we’re still out there – at the four corners of each other’s world – occasionally crossing paths. Old friendships are strange like that, aren’t they – no matter how long it’s been since you said hello, the moment you do, it’s like no time has passed at all.

You never really leave each other’s orbit.

In last night’s dream a friend from those early days entered my “real world”. I’m not really sure why or how. We were just there. I was showing them around London – walking down back streets, and then in a hotel lobby, meeting their dog, and then in an old curiosity shop, looking at all manner of bits of pieces together.

And then I woke up.

And now I want to reach out and tell them about the dream – to find out if they had the same dream too. How on earth do you do that without sounding like a crazy person though?