Chengdu of my Dreams in 2018

When I dream, I’m often back in Chengdu. So often, in fact, that the place has its own geography. I know my way, in some ways, around the city. A city which was based on real memories, and far, far, more.
There is a cafe, a bar and hookah bar, that I am always looking for. I’ve been there. It’s a black room high up in a building. It is wonderful. I enjoy relaxing there, and I always want to go there. There’s another place, a hole-in-the-wall semi under a building, and I went there waiting for people, and for some reason, I fell in love with it. So many of my dreams are spent looking for these two places. Or people are taking me to other places in the city. Or we’re suddenly there. Or the places have changed. Or moved. Sometimes I have noticed the move, other times, the move has happened in the dream reality, and doesn’t exist outside.
I’m amazed at the consistency of the feel. The buildings are new, but many appear as though they are Chengdu buildings in that modern Chinese style, with a decent number of older, more decrepit, ones. Though, of course, it all looks earthquake proofed at least.
What does it mean?
I’ve thought, more and more recently, that my dreams are key to understanding so much of this. In my dreams, I have a vibrant social existence, a place I love, and strong and lasting feelings. I deal with issues. I confront problems. I deal with questions of meaning. I confront, or at least address, people and things which I have never been able to. I get second chances that I’ll never get in real life. Sometimes, I learn lessons that vanish when I wake up. When I’m lucky, they come to me later.
I wonder. To what extent am I only really my truest self when I’m dreaming?

And isn’t it a pity I can’t sleep.