When I was in college, before I ever started doing yoga, I had an English professor, Dr. Rich, who had to be in his late 60's, early 70's, and did yoga. I remember this because one class he came in and was talking about how he was in a twist the night before and started crying out of nowhere. I thought the whole thing was a little weird.
After practicing yoga regularly for a few years now, I know that this sort of thing happens. Everything is stored in your body—anxiety, anger, sadness, happiness—all of it. Sometimes you can get yourself into a pose in which, out of nowhere, you're feeling things that don't rationally make sense to you. But if you go with it, it can be a good release.
The other thing I've found is that in savasana strange things happen. And when they do, they generally freak me out. I tend to fall asleep in this pose. But sometimes I have the most vivid dreams. If they're even dreams. (Don't you need to be asleep for a while before you dream?) One time, I was walking down the street and my grandfather was on the other side, healthy and happy as could be. It was crystal clear. I called out to him and then I was jerked awake by the teacher bringing us out of the pose. It was pretty awesome seeing grandpa, but it was eerie how real it seemed.
Tonight the vision was less peaceful. For whatever reason, I was sucked back into the moment I realized my grandmother was dying. And, not in the general sense of "she's been sick for quite some time now, so we won't have her much longer," but the "oh my god, what's that sound...dear god this is it" sense. That one moment when it sounded like she was choking and I jumped up to help only to realize there was nothing in the world I could do for her. That moment when my heart was ripped out of my chest. And it felt as real as when it happened.
I don't have some great summation here or some lessen learned tonight. Just that sometimes, despite how awesome I feel after getting into flying crow or forearm stand, yoga has a way of just absolutely fucking with you. And I miss my grandma.