Last night I had this interesting dream which began with a thirty-something woman named Lydia who browsed a dollar store. She was perusing a display of ViewMaster toys (do they still make them these days, and surely they would cost more than a dollar each? But I digress...) when a man suddenly appeared by her side. He was wearing a white button-up shirt and gray flannel dress pants, both a tad on the baggy side and a pair of boxy brown lace-up leather shoes. And his hairstyle was curious; though his wavy auburn hair wasn't long, it was parted in the middle. He looked like a gangster from the Depression era. He was panting like he'd been running.
It took Lydia a few seconds to recognize him -- he was her boyfriend, Harry, who had vanished mysteriously weeks before.
