The Client Email That Was Only in My Dream

Last week, I woke up at 3am in a panic about a client email. I rushed to my computer to respond.

The email didn't exist.

Here's what happened:

I had a vivid dream about a client who was furious with me.

In my dream, he'd just realized he couldn't travel abroad after we filed his Adjustment of Status application because he was inside the United States on an O-1 visa, which means he would abandon his pending Adjustment of Status application if he traveled outside of the United States without a travel permit.

He was angry.

He said I hadn't warned him enough about this restriction.

In my dream, I was frantically trying to figure out how to respond.

What could I say to make him feel better?

How could I fix this?

When I woke up, my first thought wasn't "that was just a dream."

It was: "Did he actually send that email?"

I went straight to my computer and checked.

Nothing.

Then came the second wave of panic: "Wait... did I actually warn him about this?"

I started searching through our email thread to confirm I'd explained the travel restriction clearly.

I had.

Multiple times.

Here's the thing about immigration law - there's this constant pressure to make sure your clients are always satisfied and well-informed.

I'm constantly thinking about my client's situations and making sure nothing falls through the cracks.

And apparently, that anxiety doesn't stop when I'm asleep.

The stress I already have during the day isn't enough.

Now I'm creating additional fake stress in my dreams.

It's absurd when I think about it.

But it also reveals something about this work.

Immigration cases impact every aspect of people's lives.

Where they can live.

Whether they can see family.

If they can keep their job.

When the stakes are that high, you carry that weight with you - apparently even into your subconscious.

The dedication that makes me a good attorney (obsessively checking case statuses, triple-checking that clients understand restrictions, worrying about every detail) is the same thing that has me problem-solving in my sleep.

I'm not sure if that's admirable or if I need better boundaries.

Probably both.

But I do know this: When I finally deliver good news to a client after months of stress and waiting, that relief is real for both of us.

Maybe that's why the anxiety feels so intense - because I genuinely care about every outcome.

Even the imaginary ones, apparently.