“I had this prophetic dream,” I tell my friend, going on to describe it. I’m driving, tired, and searching for a place I don’t know if I can reach. I wake up still searching.
“That’s not pathetic,” she says.
“I know!” I say. Who has pathetic dreams? That’s an oxymoron. “Prophetic,” I say. “Prophetic.”
In the dream, I’m looking for Weston, VA, but it’s late and I’m not sure if I can find it. When I get closer, I ask people, but no one knows where it is. I look up the town when I wake up, just in case my destiny is there marked by a star on the map. Of course, there’s no Weston, VA. There is, however, a Reston, VA, and I wonder what it is Reston has to teach me.