a long lost memory
When I lived at home some mornings I woke up and found my mother sitting at the edge of the bed. After a struggle to consciousness, I would tell her my dreams. If they were bad she would buy my dream for a quarter. She would press the coin in my hand, smile, and assure me that everything will fine. And I would not remember my dreams for the next few days.
When I lived with PJ she told me about this terrible dream that she kept having about how I invited her lousy no good ex-boyfriend came to our place. He walked around with his shoes on and was a real pain in the ass. I bought her dream for a quarter. That night I had her dream.
It seems unlikely that anyone will want to buy my dreams anymore. But I don't want to forget it is possible, because maybe someday I will want to press a coin into a small hand and say that everything will be fine.