There is one day from high school that three of my friends and I remember differently from everyone else.
We remember school being closed because of a storm. We remember walking to a nearby store, sitting there for hours, and seeing a car crash at the intersection.
But according to everyone else, school was open that day.
There was no storm.
There was no car crash.
Our attendance records say we were all in class.
The four of us have talked about it many times, and our memories match in small details: the sound of rain on the store roof, the broken red umbrella near the door, the woman crying beside the crashed car.
None of that appears to have happened.
One of my friends says maybe we dreamed the same dream.
But it does not feel like a dream.
It feels like a day that existed, and then somehow did not.