And the dream

A couple of years ago, as I was reading the NYTimes, I came across a piece written by some guy about his recurring dream. He perfectly described some of my favorite dreams with what I've since learned is a very common theme.

The gist is that I open some closet door and discover a whole new room I never knew existed in my home. It is always large and never furnished. Just a big, empty room. Sometimes it's an entire wing. The dream has taken place in my apartment, but most often in a place I don't recognize; I just KNOW it's home. I loved these dreams for obvious reasons: the pleasant surprise, the clean slate, the possibilities, the upgrade in square footage. Of course, there was always the let down of awakening to realize no matter how hard I searched, I was never going to find more space in my place, but in my mind, those moments of discovery outshine the reality hits.

The reason I bring this up? Last week, in some 20 minute chunk of time I managed to sleep on a 15 hour train ride, the dream came to me once again, with a twist. This time, as I removed my backpack and placed it on the floor, I saw something new; a feature which had escaped my notice until that very moment. My best guess, in my fuzzy recollection, is that the feature was some sort of bedroll that hooked onto the front of the pack.

These are 2 possible interpretations I've managed to come up with:
1) I really do consider that backpack my home. It's true I haven't missed my apartment or anything I gave away. Not for a second. And I have been more or less living out of it for a few months now.
2) I really, really, really needed to lie down and get some sleep. As I do now. Thank goodness I'm not on a train tonight.