Still working the route in my sleep

Last night I dreamed I was back on the old route, only every house was the same house — same porch, same dog barking from behind the same screen door. I'd hand the mail to someone and it'd be me, standing there in my own bathrobe, asking if there's anything for 311. Woke up at 4 AM feeling like I never clocked out, which, let me tell you, retirement was supposed to fix that.