Dreaming of the Lost City

So why am I dreaming of the City by the Bay?  Which is to say, Duluth?

It’s been over a month since I returned from my childhood haunts in Minnesota.  When I was there, I found myself dealing with a tangible, material place, which however pleasant was substantially changed from the terrain where I grew up.  It was like visiting someplace new, with just enough of the old remaining to make it a little bit sad.  I could find my way around, but wherever I went, I found it strange or diminished.

When I left, I thought, “Well, I won’t have to come back here.”  I was decades older, the place has changed, I really didn’t have anything to do with it anymore.

But now, week later, I’m dreaming of Duluth every night.  (I don’t remember anything that happens in these dreams, only the location.)  When I close my eyes, images of Duluth form on the back of my eyelids.  Even some of the smells are coming back, very distinct.  I’m getting the impression I may have inadvertently left something behind.

So what’s my subconscious trying to tell me?  Possibly something very creative is in the works.

On the theory that maybe I have to go back to Minnesota to trigger a breakthrough, I checked into the cost of flying there, which turns out to be surprisingly expensive.  Yet I don’t want to drive again, I don’t want to be gone for that long.  If I went it would only be for a few days.

And what exactly would I do once I arrived?  Just walk around?  I’ve already done that.  I could eat walleyed pike and lake trout and very good steaks, but I’ve already done that, too.

Maybe I’ll just sit back and stay lost in dreams for a while.  You never know, something might happen.