* * * At one point during my girls night out last evening, I completely lost it. I ended up crying. Tears were running down my face as I tried desperately to catch my breath. The conversation that preceded my behavior went something like this: I was talking about a place—going to a place—and Jenny said, “Wait … I think I worked there.” “You did?” “I think I did. Way back when, but I’m not sure.” “You’re not sure you worked there?” “I either worked there, or I had some strange dream that I worked there. I can’t remember.” “You can’t remember if you worked at a place?” It was…