A couple of nights ago (last week of December 2020) I had a vivid dream that I was leaving an airport. I was with two traveling companions and I had a lot of luggage. I knew I had a passport on my person, but I did not know where it was. I was discombobulated, unprepared and in a different country than my own.
The attendant at customs, an African woman in a short-sleeve uniform, asked for my passport. I fiddled through my bags, fearful that my companions would not be able to come with me because I knew they did not have passports. I finally found it and gave it to her. The woman looked at me and then looked at the passport and told me I’d have to come to the side so she could ensure it was me.
I started to panic because I knew my appearance hadn’t changed and asked, “Where am I?”