A Story Not About Sam

Last night I had a really scary dream. Not a nightmare, per se, but a scary one nonetheless.
In my dream, I was living in Paris and had been living there for a while. But then the day came when I had to move back to the States. I had packed my bags and left them in my apartment to go to a meeting. After this meeting, I had to head back to my apartment, get my bags, and catch a flight home.
As I turned to walk to my apartment, I realized that I couldn't remember how to get home. In fact, I couldn't remember anything about my neighborhood: what my street looked like, what my apartment building looked like, or what my address was. Not even the people in that meeting remembered where I lived. I had no way of finding my way back!
So there I was, in the middle of Paris, with nothing but my passport in my back pocket, and no way to get back to my home. You can imagine how scary that was (in a dream especially). So I woke up this morning, still thinking about it, and started to tell Jerod about it...
***Let me interject here and say that I have had some very strange dreams in my lifetime. Some of them have been close to nightmares, but mostly they are just bizarre. And I always wake up and share them with Jerod - so it's never too shocking to Jerod when I start a sentence in the morning with, "I had the wierdest dream last night...")***

This morning I started to tell Jerod about my very scary dream, maybe wanting a bit of comfort from my husband. Maybe something like, "Amanda, you are home. You aren't in Paris. You won't be living there any time soon. Everything's okay."
But instead, this is how the conversation went:

Me: I had a really scary dream last night. I dreamt I was living in Paris and I couldn't find my way back to my apartment. I couldn't even remember the street!
Jerod: Don't you mean to say, you couldn't even remember your rue?

Very comforting...huh?