I forgot the store wasn’t real

The shopping center is arranged in a circle on a hill, framed by trees. The elegant brick facade is marred by the neon signs of the chain stores. The trees are tall, green, but do not hide the cars. The shopping center has multiple Thai and Chinese restaurants, though the small, independent retailers cater to a Middle Eastern and South Asian clientele. A white cement staircase leads from the main shopping center to another, smaller grouping of stores.

At the bottom of the stairs is a small gray and yellow grocery store. Even the term “grocery store” might be more generous: it is the size of a gas station, maybe. Immediately upon entering, one comes face to face with a cold-case of green vegetables. A slight turn to the side reveals the rest of the small store and its sometimes-crowded, sometimes-empty shelves.

But you see, these are not real places. These are dreamscapes. For some reason I have chosen not to unpack in therapy, I often dream of stores, especially grocery stores. Sometimes there is an obvious anxiety component (I can’t find something I need) but sometimes I’m literally just walking around a store. Some are one-offs, and some I return to, like the ones I described above. They are based on a mish-mash of real places, of course, but my dreaming mind has put the blocks together in this way.

These are normal stores, too. The only hint that they are dreams is the shifting architecture. Otherwise, they are full of regular people, and there are normal products on the shelves. I genuinely like going to grocery stores in my waking life. I always visit the local store when I’m on vacation. My brain has a lot of building blocks to play with.

Recently I inserted myself into a conversation about dreaming. The other participants discussed ways to better remember their dreams or how to lucid dream. I mentioned that I often remember my dreams and it’s distressing, because I’m not always sure what is real and what isn’t. Curious, they asked for an example, but it was difficult to come up with one on the spot.

But last week, on a nice sunny Sunday, I went for a drive. I parked in the parking lot of a large shopping center where the buildings have brick facades. The shopping center is a rectangle, though, not a circle. I drank my Starbucks and read my book, enjoying a view of Mt. Hood just beyond the power lines. Finishing my drink, I reviewed my to do list: was there anywhere else I needed to go while I was out?

How about I stop at the little store at the foot of the stairs at the bottom of the hill. It’s just around the corner.

I literally, physically, shook my head. No. That store isn’t real. Trees, and brick, and concrete, and stores are real, but that configuration is not.