A dream of a memory

I had a very vivid dream the other night. The dream was actually a memory.

I was back in the house of my hostess on the island of Amantani on Lake Titicaca, Peru. It was freezing cold, about 5 degrees Celsius. The air was pretty thin; I was about 4,000 metres above sea level.  I hadn't had a bath in more than 24 hours because it was just madness to try and shower in freezing cold water. I spent the night in a foreign bed with 2 other tourists from America, with all my 4 layers of clothes on, socks on, and 2 layers of blankets but I still wasn't warm enough. Couldn't get warm enough. 

And the next morning, though a bit warmer (about 12 degrees Celcius), the water from the tap was still freezing cold and I had to grit my teeth while I brushed them, and said a prayer out loud before splashing ice cold water on my face.

In my dream memory, I remember thinking that notwithstanding the extreme environment I was in, living amongst strangers, being far away from any kind of moral and emotional support, being far away from the warmth that I was so used to, and depending on nothing but my wits and common sense, I was happy.

I was happy because I had the power to walk away from it all at any given time. It was I who chose to experience what I experienced, with no regrets whatsoever. The power of choice. The freedom to choose. It's an indescribable feeling. It is the embodiment of happiness. It is everything. 

And then I woke up. And got ready for work. Of course, working is a choice. But also, unfortunately, a necessity at the moment. Which, in my opinion, makes it less of a choice.

And therefore, I am less happy.