>Not creepy, but so vivid and distinct that I still think about it, years later. I had a (subjectively) long, involved dream where I was a vendor in a fish market. I remember getting up early, dressing, doing a whole morning routine, going to get tea, heading out to the docks, buying fish, loading them in a cart and going to get ice, then haggling for ice, buying some less fresh fish while I was at it, then going to a market to my stall, setting up and selling fish all day. It was so real. I talked to friends, smoked nasty cigarettes, haggled customers, ate lunch, had tea and just lived through the day. At the end of the day, I cleaned up, counted my cash, paid the stall rent, went home, cooked some of the fish I hadn't sold, sling with some veggies and rice that I'd traded for. I drank more tea, relaxed for awhile, then drew a hot bath, soaked and smoked some more cigs, then went to bed.
>The next morning, I woke up refreshed, ready to go down to the docks to buy fresh catch.... Except I was in my house, next to my wife, truck parked outside and it was Saturday - no work. My wife and I were getting geared up to go skiing in Oregon and the car was already packed. Weird thing was....
>In the dream, I was single. And a smoker (I'm not). And the whole long dream had been in fluent Chinese. The effortless kind of fluency that only comes from a lifetime of speaking it. Oh, and I had been Chinese.
>I'm a big, hairy white dude - somewhat fluent in Spanish and I know a little bit of Russian, but I've never.... It was just weird. I've never worked in a fish market.
>I wonder who I was. I wonder what that was.