When I first arrived in China last May, I was constantly harassed by nightmares. The sequence was always the same I'd find myself back in the States, amongst friends and family.
“But why am I home?" My dream-self would ask. “I'm supposed to be in China."
“Oh, you didn't like it so you came home," the group would say, with no other explanation.
Like Luke Skywalker finding out Darth Vader was his father, I'd shout: “No. That's not true. That's impossible! I love China," as I tried to figure out what really happened. Then I'd wake up, my heart beating.