|
September 2004—Jenn Hartenbower
Dreaming a Dream & Living a Dream
I'm going to London. I'm going to London. I can't believe I'm really going to London. No matter how many ways I say it or how many times I say it, I still can't believe I'm going.
I had my ticket, my passport and had paid the oodles of money required for such a trip. Let me rephrase that last part. My parents and I paid the oodles of money required for such a trip. Still nothing had really sunken in about how far away I would be going and how long I would be away.
It is strange to think that a little over a week ago this was my mindset. I was at home telling everyone I knew I was going to London, and I had my ticket, passport and such, but I still hadn't packed. I was too busy anticipating what this trip was going to be like that I sort of forgot to really prepare myself for what I was about to do.
I was going to London and fulfilling a dream of almost everyone I know.
Dreaming a dream is a wonderful state to be in. Granted, when the dream is over there is a little sadness to be felt, but as least it was a good dream. Living a dream, on the other hand, can be a very scary thing, which is the position I find myself in now.
I'm here living the dream that everyone back home dreams about. Ever since I almost didn't make my flight to my suitcase being broken, I have wanted almost nothing more than to just go back to dreaming the dream, or at least have brought my Mom with me. She's one of the people back home who dreams of doing what I'm doing. I wish she were here. She calls a lot, but hearing her voice just isn't enough sometimes.
It's funny how she feeds me words of encouragement so easily. She is always ready with something like, "Think about all the things you're getting to see that some of us never will." Then there is my favourite, "I was married at your age." This is what she tells me when I tell her part of me thinks this is the stupidest thing I've ever done. There are a million and one more things she says to make me feel better, but those only go so far, because she's still dreaming the dream. She doesn't understand how dreams and expectations can be shattered by reality, and I don't think I can make her understand. She is still in the blissful void of dreams instead of being over 3000 miles from everything she ever knew. I've tried to help her understand, but I can't. She is too blinded by her dream--her dream for herself, her dream for me.
I'm not saying I regret my decision to come here, but I won't say it's the most intelligent decision I've made either. Part of me just wants to go back to dreaming and anticipating, but that is impossible because I'm already in London, but if given the opportunity to jump on a plane and go home, I don't think I would or could say no. However, if I did that I then I would forever be haunted by the question "What if?" Since it is impossible for me to hop a plane home, I guess I'll find out "What if..." And while I'm waiting for that I'll just count the days. Ninety-two days and counting until I can go home and be a dreamer instead of a traveller.
Now that I've got that out, I can start fighting my fear and enjoying my trip, beginning with but not limited to amazing architecture, historical sites and great shoes. ~ Jenn ~
|
