The Misinterpretation of Dreams

Trying to fall asleep after 36hours of being awake, with just one hour of sleep in between, I wish I could dream of all the answers to my many questions:

Is there really any point to me working so hard?
How much did I actually help the people who’s lives I think I helped to save last night? Am I crazy to think that I can handle a patient with his trachea cut in two? Am I just lucky that both of the patients with stabbed necks and tracheal injuries survived on the operating table without dying last night?
What is the point of all of this?
Am I going to be alone for the rest of my life? Is what I have enough to call a life? Is this it?
Am I strong enough to die alone?
Will I ever be able to fix my relationship with my mother? Will I ever be a mother? Am I capable of being a good mother?
What is it that I really want most of all?

I wake up after 90 minutes without any answers and starving. I pour myself a double shot of Amarula and make a toasted cheese sandwich. And I decide to blog about it.