Details

We search for meaning in details. For example, it's difficult to imagine a train station in the abstract, without specific features. The station here—a shadowy, grey, stone vault where oblique columns of light and warmth, indifferent accidents of nature, stream down onto somber travelers far below—is, for the thoughtful viewer, a personal space filled with telling detail: my parents hurry along on the cold station floor—in the 1950s, an era of grimness for me—and I, their sole child, an anxious toddler, brushing against the warm, coarse, familiar fabric of my father's suit, follow with my hand in his. Our trip, a reprieve from the protective confinement of my middle-class home, is a small adventure.

A dream consists of meaningful detail as well, which is essential for describing it. The physical world, our thoughts and associations, and our mood and emotions within the dream come alive in many specific details thoughtfully recorded.

This image of New York's Grand Central Station is from the mediabistro blog UnBeige. Buy the poster.