Returning and departing

I dreamed we were in an old diner, low and long and with wood panel walls, in Indianapolis, someplace downtown. A long table was set out. My coworkers and I filed in and sat at the table, only to find sitting at the head of it none other than a colleague who had passed away some months back. We were all shocked to see him. He explained that he had faked his death, and had been in a mental institution, and that this was not to be leaked "to anybody." (For some reason he felt faking his death was easier than just admitting he had to go away for awhile.) But now he was back, he declared, and ready to resume his duties—even though we had already passed his duties on to somebody else. We all looked at each other nervously. Meanwhile, people who knew him began circling the table, asking us if that was really him sitting there. We didn't know what to say.

*

I dreamed my friend S. from Jersey City and I had traveled to Pakistan. I have never visited Pakistan in the waking world, but in the dream S. and I were revisiting a trip we had decades ago as youths. We were making our way along a path in early twilight through a desert area to a market place, whence we were to take some kind of open-air bus to a small city where we had stayed long ago.

S. and I made it to the marketplace, but somehow got separated. I couldn't find him anywhere. I went to the staging area for the buses, which was in a narrow alley. None of the bus drivers spoke English, that is until I came across an elderly British lady who was operating one of them. I asked if she had seen a guy resembling S., and she shook her head, and told us the last bus to the city we were heading to was about to depart, and I needed to either get on it or scram, as the area became dangerous at night.

I waitied awhile, but S. did not show up. The last bus pulled out of the station. I'm embarassed to say I left the place and headed back to the airport, heading back home, leaving my friend to whatever fate awaited him.