Yet another disturbed night’s sleep. Woke up not knowing where on earth I was. It was as if I had been plucked from sleep’s great ocean and flug on some unfamiliar shore.
There are no shortage of fanciful notions which seek to explain the mysteries of sleep. Personally I have always favoured that which proposes that the souls of the sleeping ascend to another plane, so that while our bodies sleep under worldly sheets our spirits play among the stars.
It is my opinion that the finest of threads connects the spirit with the vacated body, the latter acting as an anchor, and down this line come the vibrations of the spirit’s starry gallivanting, which the dormant body perceives as dreams. Thus when we sleep we go kite-flying, yet we are both flyer and the kite.
But if all the world flies kites at night it follows that the sky must be filled with threads. Very dangerous. Question – What happens when two lines become tangled? – for it must be easily done. Might a soul not return down the wrong string by accident and wake to find itself inhabiting a stranger’s body? This has concerned me, on and off, for quite a while and was more or less how I felt this morning. It was getting on for lunchtime before I had properly straightened myself out.

Mick Jackson - The Underground Man, P.50

Anyone had any dreams like this recently?