Dreams: I was traveling back from Rochester with a co-worker and we ended up on a fairly small plane. For some perverse dream-logic reason, I checked my smaller, carry-on-sized bag and carried on a larger wheeled garment bag. When we got to the Philadelphia airport, we had to walk a very long way down linoleum-floored corridors lit by flickering, buzzing fluorescent lights. One door that appeared to be an elevator opened onto a downward slanting ramp, provoking a distinct sense of vertigo. During the walk the handle on my rolling back broke on one side, prompting me to issue an (uncharacteristic) profanity in the presence of a man who might have been a priest.

When we got to baggage claim, it was filled with people waiting for luggage from an international flight. The floor around the baggage carousel was jammed with a variety of Hartmann tweed bags, similar to my disabled rolling bag, which I left in the company of the other suitcases while I watched for my small grey carry-on. There were two men in what looked like a ship's pilot house who were directing the baggage traffic. We tried to ask them about our bags, but they stayed robotically focused on their tasks. When my grey bag finally appeared, I turned around to pick up my rolling bag and discovered that it had disappeared. I noted that my back was aching terribly and that I needed to see a doctor because it had been bothering me for so long.

When I woke up my back was indeed in the throes of some major "you've stayed in bed way too long" pain. But all my luggage was safe in the closet where I left it.