Apparently this was not according to the plan, because someone said, “We didn’t get into this just so Buckley could get knighted.”

Let’s not get sidetracked here, people. It’s good that the people in my dream can stay on point.

More distressingly, Sir Buckley got pepper sprayed at one point. I have no idea why, but it was entirely unnecessary. Then I woke up, probably to the sound of a dog barking outside.

I have this dream mostly involving being outside of a huge, but clearly abandoned mansion or castle. Vivid details, like dead leaves from a hundred different autumns collecting behind giant black urns on one of the back patios. The dust and grit from rain and wind coating outside surfaces. The window glass is dusty and eerie, like dead black eyes staring without seeing. There is no trash or signs of vandalism, which would suggest some kind of keeper, but the house has been obviously abandoned and uncared for for many years. The lack of vandalism and trash is all the more disconcerting, since it suggests that the house is not quite part of the world we know. Yet, it stands, the only sign of age or disuse on the outside – none of it evidently seeping inside.

The most distressing part? That it is quite familiar, and I have every right to go inside and open it up once more. Every time, I am reluctant. I always wake up without having opened the front door, but each time I get a bit closer. Soon enough, I’ll touch the sun warmed metal knob. Maybe I’ll turn it, maybe I won’t.