I had one of those dreams last night that make no sense, but wake you up like a shot in the middle of the dark.

I was at a friend's party in a house I've never seen before. It was very fancy and nicely decorated. There were some statues and what not made out of glass. There was a glass house about the size of a bread box and some very old, obviously antique dishware. As I walked by the display, there was a little kid nearby trying to reach the plates and the glass house. As I past the kid, I heard behind me some movement and noises. I turned and found the house and the plates falling off the shelf. I ran back to try to stop the inevitable crash. I saved the plates, but the house fell and broke as it hit the floor.

Everyone at the party turned upon hearing the noise. The little kid looked up at me, and my friend came running over. Expecting my friend to be thankful I helped save one of the items, I was stunned to find him yelling at me and asking what did I think I was doing. It was one of those moments where no words come to your lips. I couldn't seem to say, "Wait, I didn't drop it. The kid did. I was trying to save the stuff." It was one of the moments where you don't understand why your friend doesn't give you the benefit of the doubt.

The kid, of course, said nothing. As kids do. She just stood there and let me take the fall. And I took it. I took the fall, because someone had to and at that point, it would have looked like I was trying to pin it on the kid. It would have been hard to believe.

But the sad part was, I knew in that moment, my friend wasn't acting as much of a friend. My friend wouldn't even have listened to me, had I tried to state my case. He didn't give me the benefit of the doubt or even the chance to speak. They should know me better than that. But it seemed, what I had to say, my thoughts on the matter, were not even considered. It was assumed I was at fault. That hurt.

That dream woke me up. When I awoke, I wanted to call my friend to convince myself it was a dream and that we were still friends. Of course, I was groggy and dopey from sleep. But as I thought more about contacting them, I thought, how stupid would that be. What could I say when I had them on the phone? I didn't do it. The kid did it. Dumb, but dreams are like that. They are so real and the messages they send cause feelings which are so intense. And they get to the heart of what is really troubling a person. And today, still, I feel like I've done something wrong somehow, when I never did do anything wrong in the first place.

I'm such a dufus, I know, but I wish I'd hear from my friend, just to let me know, it really was just a dream.