If you don't know, honey, then you don't

One of the things about simply being human that amazes me - and there are many - is the act of dreaming. What is this space where your brain goes when you sleep? Millions of people have studied, pondered, and even theorized about dreams but they remain one of the great mysteries of the human mind, if you ask me. As if the idea of simple consciousness were not puzzling enough, our brains take leave of us while we sleep and take us to places we've never been (to our knowledge) and put things and ideas and scenarios together in ways we do not imagine in our waking lives. No wonder Descartes needed thousands of pages to determine "I think therefore I am."

I woke this morning from one of those dreams (and this list is long for me) that was entirely narrative, long, detailed, and curiously cohesive. I was in London, but for some reason I had planned to go back to Denver just for overnight, and get back in time the next day to catch the train to Scotland with Sarah, as planned. I was there early to teach a literature class, and the students were really fun and all vaguely familiar (<--this is of course an occupational hazard; everyone everywhere under the age of 30 is familiar to me in some way). I was having a great time with the students, but it was one of those times in which I must have been partially waking because in my dream I kept sleeping in front of the class, which is a recurring theme that I can only assume is an effect of generalized anxiety. One of the students was someone I used to know named Anthony, but it wasn't actually him; this guy only looked like him and was sweet and I felt motherly toward him like I do with a great number of my younger students. I was joking with the class and they were laughing at my jokes, but the number of students kept changing and it was so odd. I also had a job interview in some place where I had to go and stay overnight and I was packing (again with the packing - I'd love to know what this means) and getting dressed. Jamison and Sami were there with me, but it wasn't England as I know it, we were staying somewhere more like a mountain town in Colorado. I decided ultimately to stay put and not go back to Denver because I couldn't remember why I was going in the first place.

The whole story sounds innocuous, of course, but I woke feeling tired, as though I had actually spent the entire sleeping time experiencing this. Even though I slept all night to my knowledge, I feel more tired than when I went to bed. In fact, I'm exhausted and I feel strange, like I've been crying, like I've had to say goodbye to people, and it's going to put me in an odd headspace all day now. I don't get it.