u/Dear-Molasses-2101

Let me start by saying I rarely dream. I might remember 3 dreams a year, and they are rarely significant. The one I had last night had me questioning my own sanity.

I was at some gala type event in some large hall I didn't recognize. I excused myself to the bathroom, a single room style so I was alone. A human figure dressed in tattered white cloth with their face covered appeared out of nowhere. For whatever reason, there was a small pickaxe on the floor next to me (kinda like Andy uses in Shawshank), and without thinking I plunged it into this thing's head.

It slumped to the floor, gave me a thumbs up, and went limp. I washed my hands and exited back to the event like nothing happened. Then I woke up.

Wtf?

I feel like I'm broken, or I've got crossed wires or something. I've got a great home life, like literally idyllic. Pretty wife, great kids, nice house, etc.

Why do I find myself on reddit, etc flirting with girls, getting their pics, sending mine, etc.

I've never fully "cheated" a la Bill Clinton, (at least on my current wife), but something deep inside me needs these interactions.

Short of calling me a chauvenistic pig, wtf is wrong with me?