I don’t feel stressed. I feel content. I’m not sad, or upset. I have a job, a full time job at that. My boss is no longer a lunatic. I have good friends who love me. I have shelter that is comfortable and adequate. I am healthy. While I am by no means well off, I have enough income to pay my bills. Generally, things are well now. But they still tell me I am stressed.

Why? My dreams have been odd to say the least. Normally my dreams are pretty straight forward. I dream of people I miss, things I need to do, and sometimes the quirky dream that makes no sense. I rarely remember them except when they are bad.

For the past two weeks I have remembered all of my dreams. Probably because they have been batshit crazy. Like last night were I dreamt I was visiting Iran. Yup. Iran. The premise of the dream was that I had to get cash from a bank. But I could not go to just any bank. Since I was not Iranian, nor Muslim. Later, I was attacked (by a white American, oddly enough) and saved by the Iranian Revolutionary Guard.  Or the other night when I dreamt that I absolutely had to get to the pool. In my ice skates. To save my sister and nephew. But, alas, the plan was foiled when my compact broke.

You see, they make no sense. But they are vivid. I can remember the feel of the bullets flying past me and the intricate design of my skates as I laced them. I remember the terror in my sister’s eyes and the contempt in my attacker’s smile.

In the dreams, I feel stressed. But not in waking life. So odd. I do wonder what it all means. Dreams are fascinating things, aren’t they?