This morning I awoke to sunlight streaming through the windows which meant it was later than I have ever slept in France. In fact it was Sophie’s quick bark that woke me and she was barking because the plumber was knocking on the door. Unbelievable. I had slept until 9:45. Truthfully, I had awoken at 6 am like always but willed myself to go back to sleep. And sleep I did! It was the kind of deep sleep that brings strange almost real-feeling dreams.

I have a tendency to have these kinds of dreams. Dreams with so much detail that I awaken sure what has happened is real. Many mornings I have to make myself be nice to Matthew because he had been unkind to me in a dream and I’m jealous or seething. Other days I wake up happily having visited with my mom or relieved that I am not actually flunking out of college or failing organic chemistry.

This morning my dreams were vivid. I was at Bates and it was either my senior year or I had returned as an alumnus to participate in graduation. Tori was living in a different dorm and I was trying to pack up my stuff to move home. I was sad because I was leaving a time of great happiness and I wasn’t sure what my next step should be. I didn’t know where to live, what to do, or who to be with. I was aware that my boyfriend from Senior year didn’t want to be with me, but my first love was also non-commital. Matthew wasn’t even on the radar. I didn’t want to be alone in the dream.

In my dream, I was aware that I needed to squeeze in a work out in ( I know I’m neurotic even asleep) and then also had to get my shit cleaned out of multiple dorms rooms. Apparently I was using a few! The weird part was that I was amazingly tired, or perhaps sick. I was struggling to make my way across campus towards my parent’s house. On the one hand, in my dream my parents were deceased, but at some points they were present which again only made sense in my dream. This tiredness felt like serious illness. I was weak, heavy and struggling to keep my eyes open. I kept falling over as I walked to cross College Street. People occasionally helped me up but what I really needed was an ambulance. Occasionally, I was aware that my vision was fading and I needed to get somewhere safe. No one seemed to notice. Finally my parents arrived and were walking with me towards our childhood home. When we got there, it was different and other people were living in it. I felt lost.

And then my eyes opened and I was in my bedroom in France. Sophie was there and I was safe. I wasn’t lost. I was not sick. Was this just neural garbage? Is my sub-conscious telling me I am more afraid than I realized? Have I been shuffling towards an unknown home in these last few years?