My driveway is incredible in the autumn.  I was walking down it one day as the leaves were falling all around me like a scene out of an arthouse martial arts film, and I had this extremely strong feeling of existing in my own memory.  It was as if I was the memory, and the entire world was a construct of my future self’s mind, and everything took on a very dreamlike quality.  I think of this poem whenever I experience something that is special.  My kid’s mom had a similar concept: she imagined that if there was an afterlife or a heaven, it would be like a long hallway with doors on either side, and through each door was a special moment in your life.  Whenever something amazing would happen, she would say “Well, there’s another door in the hallway.”