Dream of Finding Myself

I seem to be going though a lot of things that have to do with self discovery.

I had a dream the other night…
It must have been late afternoon but the fog blocked the sun. There were no breaks in the cloudiness but for a few strands of sunlight. Engulfed by the fog, I sat by the train tracks at an old railroad station on a rotting bench waiting for something or someone. I didn’t know which.

I turned my head to the right; nothing there. I turned to the left and leaped from the bench. I had caught a glimpse of myself in the window of the station behind me. At least… I thought it was me.
I walked slowly to the window. “It’s dusty,” I thought to myself. The thought echoed for what seemed like hours. I stared at the obscured reflection. “That’s not me.” I pulled the my sleeve over my hand and rubbed the window to clear away the sediment.

A young woman stared back at me. We glanced each other over, my “reflection” and I. She wore the same clothes as mine but they were aged. A blight blue hoodie with a blurred, multi-colored symbol across the chest, jeans with the heels worn to shreds from years of being walked on, and black DC sneakers with the laces covered by the long jeans. I looked down at my own attire as my reflection did the same. “No, that couldn’t be me. I just got these clothes.” I looked back at my reflection and realized that the clothes weren’t the only difference.
She is taller than I am, but not by much. Her hair is different. Cut in short two-strand twists, not long like my locks. Her face is older than mine, not as girlish. I flash a grin; she does, too. The braces are gone from her mouth. No gaps or crooked teeth remain. Then it happens.

We lock eyes. Our eyes are the same color, size, and shape but they’re different. Her eyes have a spark of wisdom, mine of innocence. “You’re not me are you?” I ask out loud. She smiles at me. “Yes and no,” she says. Then, she turns and walks away from the window. I follow the sound of her footsteps to the door of the old station. We look at each other; I in disbelief, her in amusement.

“’Yes and no?’ What do you mean?” I ask.
“I am you but you are not me.”
“Are you the one I’ve been waiting for?”
“No. It is I who have been waiting for you.
“Why didn’t you call to me? I was waiting right outside.”
“You had to stop waiting for one who would never come and turn to face yourself.”
“Now that I have found you, what do I do?”
“You do nothing. I can leave now.”
“Leave? But, we’ve just met.”
“No, we haven’t. I know you. I am you but you are not me.”

Then she turned and walked away down the path next to the tracks. She looked back and smiled at me once more before disappearing into the fog.
Then I woke up.

I've been trying to figure out what it means. I get the "I am you but you are not me." That symbolizes the growth that I will undergo in the time between us. (That makes sense, right?) You know, the time I still have to go through to reach the next stage (her).
But I don't understand why she was waiting for me and why she left.

Any advice?