Good night, Irene

I don't think I've ever been in the building before, but I appear to be downstairs. There are a series of rooms, and I can't remember much about the one I'm in, but a friend -- I have no idea who -- comes into the room I'm in. This seems to be his house, even if it's more of an apartment building than a house. He tells me that my old girlfriend is in the other room. There's no need to tell me who this is. Something unspoken tells me I'm supposed to wait, but I quickly get up and push past him to rush into... the place where she is. This is a series of rooms, perhaps an apartment, perhaps an office space, and I don't know any of the people here. They all seem to be doing something. For all I know, they're volunteers working on some political campaign. Then, She comes out. We recognize each other instantly, even though it's been most of a lifetime since we've seen each other. She stops to exchange a few words with one of the women there, perhaps just to postpone the inevitable, but then we collapse in an embrace, racing against time to immerse ourselves in one another, reuniting those souls long ago separated.

There is no reason for this dream, but there it is.