I had a dream last night and in my dream, I was picking up the mail. I was walking across to my mailbox. I saw I had mail and then I woke up. That was all.

It was more than that, though. It was my mailbox at college, in the building where the mailboxes were housed, an ornate turn-of-the-century building with dark fluted columns and chandeliers that had seen its better days by the time I was there.

It was on a day like the kind we're having right now, hazy cold, the leaves gone. It was afternoon, after most classes were done, so I was by myself. The floor creaked when I walked, the door from outside smacked in a gust of wind.

Inside, it was steamy warm, the radiators hissing. I could smell the musk. I walked across the room with the dark columns and the dusty chandeliers and into the windowless mail room, lit by a flickering flourescent light and lined on three walls with tiers of post boxes. Each worn mailbox had three tiny combination wheels beneath a little window with its number painted in black and gold.

I had mail.

And it was more than that. In my dream I was by myself -- but I wasn't. When I woke, I was thinking of my two best friends: my last -- and really only serious -- girlfriend, and my very first boyfriend. They were not in my dream but they were there. I could see them, as we were then, twenty years old.

Three years ago in Colorado I ran into a college acquaintance who had one of those slick alumni office publications. I looked up a few people and my girlfriend was one of them. She was listed, so I wrote her.

It's been many years since we spoke and I felt so bad about how things ended. I hope you know that I never intended to hurt you. If you have forgiven me, I would like to hear how your life has gone. Have you gotten married? Do you have children?I would like to know.

I had a response almost immediately. She was well, very well. She had married an engineer, she had a child that was named after her mother. (You remembered! she said when I mentioned that.) I had left an 'indelible impression' on her, she said, and of course I cynically thought I'll bet! But we wrote and got caught up...

It has been many years since I have spoken to or heard from my very first boyfriend. In the late 80s I was in his city on business, so I gave him a call. His wife -- the 'judge's daughter' -- answered the phone. I could hear small children in the background and she seemed startled to hear from me.

"And what about you? Did you ever do anything with teaching?"
"Oh no," she said. "I always wanted to be a housewife."

Was she being sarcastic? Funny? Serious? Her voice gave no special inflection.

"Oh," I said, "Well from the background, it sounds like you got your wish."

Silence. I laughed uncomfortably. "And how is he?"
He is doing very well, very busy. He's not here right now. He's at work. He was torn up over his father's death last year. He has almost a full head of gray hair, you wouldn't recognize him.

"Well, it was good chatting with you. Tell him I called and said 'hi'."
"I will. Good bye."

I have a pretty good idea why I had this dream. Life is weird, though.