Sometimes it's better to light a flamethrower than curse the darkness

Last night I dreamed* about having to go back to my (dream-only) college to pick up paperwork related to a place where I (really) lived 18 years ago (I realized upon waking that I almost got the address right! in the dream the house number was 74, in real life it was 78).

The person I dealt with who read out the address also called me Hannah, and I saw that name on the paper when it was handed to me. Dream-me was like oh yeah, Hannah was the name I was born with, I forgot! Wait, my parents must have forgotten it too, because they call me Holly... Oh well, same initial, close enough!

It stuck with me much of the day, this idea that I'd somehow entirely forgotten the name I was given at birth, and didn't feel any connection to it, and neither did the people around me because they didn't use it either. Such a strange feeling.

* Among other things! Like expanding the bus network that my brain has decided definitely exists in the small towns I grew up near. I can tell you where several of the imaginary bus stops are now!