I've got too many air-miles to get properly jetlagged. I suppose it used to happen, but for as long as I can remember I just slam myself into the new time zone.
The soul takes a while to catch up, but the basic functionality is there from landing, through car collection and to whatever.
It's apparent when doing one of those red-eyes back to an office after a short night. London to Moscow. San Francisico to New York. Europe to Tel-Aviv. The night somehow just goes missing. Like after a good party, but less fun.
The dreams aren't fooled that there is still a need for adjustment.
Some people say they can't tell whether they dream in colour or monochrome. I know I dream in colour, with occasional lapses into bird-vision. Added spectrum and extra wide. I know, it's useful for finding berries.
The peculiar part of post flight catchup is being asleep and knowing it's a dream but not being able to break out of it. It can sound a bit Christopher Nolan, but it's odd to have that awareness of being asleep and in a dream.
Detached. Waiting for the soul to catch up.