In Which My Subconscious Surprises Me

Three days ago, I returned from a trip to Grinnell, where Brad and I gave a presentation about our year in Greece. It was great to be back in Grinnell, and also a little bit odd. I felt a little bit like a student, a little bit like a guest, and a little bit like a ghost. I loved talking about Greece and hearing from classmates who traveled through Africa and Asia in the past year. It enjoyed talking with professors and a Greek Grinnellian or two. However, I did find it a bit weird to walk through campus and not see very many people I know. Worse, I kept seeing people that I know that I know, but don't know how I know, and wondering if I should go up to them and say hello. Is it worse to say hello to someone who has no idea who you are, or to say hello to someone who does know who you are and then have to explain that you don't know who they are? I haven't come up with a solution yet.
However, all of this led to a really interesting dream last night. Here's how it went. I was back in Iowa, but nobody could see me. I was invisible, some sort of ghost of Grinnellians Past. I decided to watch a performance in the theatre department, and it turned out to be a Greek tragedy. Since I was invisible, I had no qualms about walking up to the stage and watching the performance very closely, particularly during the exciting parts. (Strangely enough, there was a lot of fighting in this particular tragedy, even though onstage fighting never actually happens in ancient Greek theatre. My subconscious must be uninformed about classical theatre.)
During a particularly heated fight sequence, one character turned to the other and announced, in perfect modern Greek "I went to the supermarket! Your supermarket!" Then he attacked the other character with a sword.
After that, I went to the dining hall, which had been converted into a Greek taverna, but they wouldn't let me leave until I opened my purse and showed them that I had my cat with me, and that she had all of her official European union cat paperwork. That's right, in the dream, I carried Calypso in my purse. What's more, when asked to find her, I actually had to look around for a little while and fish through some papers and keys and things. I even had to dig her out from under my cell phone. I woke up and she was sleeping right next to my face.
I don't know what Freud would say about this, but going to the supermarket has never made me angry enough to kill someone in a toga.