Since January, there have been several distinct motifs that make it into most of my remembered dreams. These are my brother, Europe/air travel (and its frustrations), subways, villains, school, and a large, sometimes labyrinthine house.

Last night, for instance, I was in Paris with my brother, and we were both preparing to fly back to the US. He returned a day before I did, and when it was my time to leave, I found that I had simply far too much stuff to pack before my flight, piles of boxes littering the house I’d been staying in. It was more like moving.

Other times, that large house is featured prominently. I wander through it aimlessly; it is usually very late at night, almost dawn. People are scattered among the rooms, sometimes sleeping, sometimes sitting in cramped, winding staircases, and there are large, semi-circular balconies that look down upon spacious foyers.

The subways are complex, oblique, and almost ride-like, similar to the Downtown Crossing T stop. The villains are faceless and their threats are vague.

It’s just new to me to keep revisiting the same fictional places.

Summer drink: two ice cubes, vodka, sparkling grapefruit juice, splash of cranberry. It’s pink.