Living in a Coastal Town

I was living in the cutest historic coastal town I’ve ever seen, reminding me of Greenwich in England. Cobblestone streets and all. I was renting out a room in an attic above a small historic and nautical museum being run by a nice old woman whose grandson narrated tours of the museum. I liked him, but I couldn’t tell if he liked me. He seemed moody but in a mysterious way. The way I would get to the attic was through this secret door in the museum, it was so neat. Everything was just amazing. I started to grasp that it was a dream when I realized I didn’t know where my car was parked. I realized I didn’t know other details about my life, like where I worked. My real house came to mind, and I was like, “Oh, yeah. I don’t actually live here.” I woke up.