Last night I dreamt I rode a bicycle to Philadelphia (yes, from Chicago). Along the way I pedaled through small, hill-hugged towns, with white barns and split rail fences. I went to Philadelphia because I was visiting a friend who was photographing the ocean (which looked remarkably like the ocean @ Delaware that time Kathleen & I went there on spring break--grey and churning). Then there was this monstrous wave so our beach party retreated to the forest, where we built a shelter out of bamboo & pine boughs and had bicycle races down pine needle-covered trails.
That's the thing I enjoy most about dreams: distance is negligible, and geography can be rearranged to suit the narrative.